


Bottom of the well

by SheyRicci



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 23:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheyRicci/pseuds/SheyRicci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean once again ups and disappears and though Sam isn't in the best shape himself, he'll find him. And if he has to accept help from someone only Dean trusts, he will, 'cause, yeah - Sam trusts his brother that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've always been a Bobby gal, love the crusty old man and miss him dearly. Sniff-snuffle and sob. And of course, I adore Cas, but I usually leave him out of any story because it's too easy to let him be Mr. Fix-it-all. So if he appears out-of-character, it's because:
> 
> I've tweaked and twisted and ignored an issue/fact or two and created a few of my own which led me astray a wee bit from the way it appears Season 8 is being written. Whew!
> 
> \--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> *Totally, completely, utterly, absolutely, unabashedly, quoted, word-for-word: In other words, I done-did stole it!
> 
> *Band - Airbourne - Song – From the Bottom of the Well - Writers, Ryan and Joel O'Keef.

The ground was damp, rocky, unyielding and uncomfortable. The air hung heavy with a nauseating odor that impeded his ability to breathe deeply. The darkness surrounding him, cloaked in shadows and images, danced and darted at him with dizzying speed that left him unable to determine if he were sitting or lying down.

He extended a hand, fingers walking until they encountered slime and squishy - God, he hoped - squishy mud. Eyes opened, he waited until they adjusted to the gloom, then lifted his head to look around. He couldn't see much, it was dim, nearly dark but he could ascertain he was lying on his back.

He let his eyes wander as he took mental inventory. His head ached, but didn't hurt so he was pretty sure he hadn't suffered a head injury. Both hands flexed and fisted and each arm raised at will with no pain. Encouraged by his apparent mobility, he placed a palm flat on either side of his hips and pushed himself upright. No pain in his shoulders or his belly or his chest; a twinge or two, but nothing he couldn't shake off.

Reaching into one of his many pockets, he withdrew a lighter and a flashlight. Switching the LED beam on, he flashed it around, up, down and back around. Nothing but dripping water on wet walls made of rock, covered in slime and mud. He flashed the light upwards but couldn't see the distance to the top of what might be an old mine shaft or - he aimed the beam at the wall, slowly swinging it back and forth, a roundish wall - a long forgotten well.

A well, a mine shaft. Did it matter? It was a fucking hole in the ground and he was at the bottom of it with no easy way out.

He swallowed. Great. Walls made of stone laid by hand and worn smooth over the years from water. There were neither hand holds nor tree roots or convenient protruding rocks to use to climb out. He pointed the beam at the ground; slime, moss, puddles of water and mud and - and he didn't want to know what else. Everything was wet and rock and mud. No leafs or twigs with which to light a fire. Just the broken, rotten pieces of timber from the lid he had fallen through. The majority of the lid remained intact somewhere above his head, so no wood to keep a fire going should he manage to get one lit.

Great. He turned the flashlight off and searched his pockets for his cell phone. It came out in pieces. His watch, which had an alarm, a compass, a calendar and was water proof was still attached to his wrist and smashed.

Okay, bright side! Hand-dug wells laid with rock weren't deep and it appeared this one no longer filled with water. Further proof his deduction the well wasn't deep was while he was stiff and sore and bruised; he hadn't suffered broken bones or serious injury from the fall. No, he couldn't see day light, but perhaps it was dark, the time of day being night. Besides, what was left of the lid somewhere above his head had been overgrown with weeds and grass and bushes so really, it could be any time of day or night.

Well, time to gain his feet and explore his temporary prison cell. Maybe there was another way out. He snorted, yeah, right. When had anything ever gone his way? He pulled his knees towards his chest to push to his feet by using his heels only to find his left foot had grown independent of his body. His right foot obeyed and sat positioned where he wanted it, but his left leg remained stretched out in front of him.

Huh, well, that was odd. He turned his flashlight back on and illuminated his foot. It was there, at the end of his leg, but…..he rotated his ankle, well, he tried but it wouldn't obey. What the fuck was that? Did that hurt? That should hurt. Why didn't that hurt?

The top of one's foot shouldn't sport an adornment of rebar. He bit his lip and concentrated on moving his foot closer to his body so he could grab it with his hands. The age-old dilemma of doing what one should, what one thought best and fighting one's natural instincts ping-ponged in his head. He managed to flex his knee and draw his leg up slightly but got no further and had to lay down before he became overwhelmed with dizziness.

Leave it in or pull it out.

His toes twitched and the darkness around him exploded in white bursts and he had to fight to keep from passing out. As far as he could remember, there were no vital veins or arteries in a foot so while he may suffer some blood loss, it was doubtful he would bleed out. He could make a bandage with his socks and use his knife to tear his flannel shirt into strips.

Whether it was rebar or some other piece of steel or iron or metal, it was no doubt rusted and covered in bacteria and germs from being exposed to whatever over the years and to leave it in risked major infection.

He didn't expect immediate rescue. It would take Sam some time to locate him but he had no doubt his brother would find him. If nothing else, the kid was determined and stubborn. Question was, would it be in time? Pulling it out would be a gruesome task and would hurt like hell and he probably wouldn't be able to stop himself from passing out but leaving it through his foot could cause worse problems. All he could hope for was he didn't pass out and if he did, he woke up coherent enough to bandage his foot before he lost too much blood and succumbed to shock.

He thumped his head against the ground in frustration until it hurt. Decision made, he sat up, shrugged out of his coat, removed his flannel shirt, re-donned his coat, withdrew a knife and a roll of duct tape from yet another pocket and began to make bandages. Removing his right boot to get his sock was easily done. Putting his boot back on minus warm, cozy sock had him grimacing.

Using his right foot and his hands, he pushed his ass backwards until his back was against the wall. Maybe if he wiggled and jiggled his foot, the length of bar would fall out? Worth a try, right? Yeah, all that accomplished was him breaking out in a heavy sweat and gasping for breath.

Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, he pulled his left knee towards his chest until he was able to curl his foot towards his thigh. He had to pause and rest, and give his breathing a chance to catch up and even out. It also gave him a chance to consider his situation.

Maybe he should leave the boot tied tight. Might help with the bleeding, but – no. No, his foot might swell and then he'd never get his boot off unless he cut it off and he was neither strong nor coordinated enough to cut the leather and not his foot as well. If all went as he planned, he'd be able to untie his boot, remove the rebar, bandage his foot and replace his boot.

"Right." he muttered hoarsely, throat dry and reminding him it would like some water. "When does anything go as you planned?" he untied the laces, worked the tongue of the boot loose, carefully lifted his foot from laying on its left side and put his heel down with his toes up. Next thing he knew, he was gagging on bile that would've choked him had he been lying down. "Never do anything half-assed do ya Dean." he let his foot fall to its side and switched on his flashlight to verify what he should've already guessed. His foot hadn't been simply stabbed with a length of rebar, it'd been impaled.

His breathing increased until he was panting and sweat beaded so heavily on his brow, it dripped into his eyes, causing him to drag the back of his hand across his forehead. Knowing he had an iron or steel or whatever kind of rod through his foot wasn't the same as seeing it confirmed. The rebar protruded through the bottom of his boot that had near a 2" sole. It had taken some force to accomplish that.

Like a band-aide Dean. Just rip it out.

Vision now white, his head spinning, he bit his lip, grabbed the rebar with both hands and knowing he had to yank it out the first time for he wouldn't have the stomach to attempt it a second time; pulled with all the strength he possessed.

It wasn't how difficult it was to tug the entire length of rebar through the sole of his boot and not stop when he felt it slide through his foot and scrape bone; it wasn't the pain; it wasn't the stomach-churning scent or feel of blood; it wasn't the flood of warmth that surged through his body nor was it the dizziness that exploded in his head, that gave him his last moment of coherency.

It was the sound.

The sickening sound of protesting muscle and tendon reluctant to relinquish its hold on the foreign object that had dared to invade where it didn't belong. The squelch, heard despite his boot, when the rebar popped out of his foot and his skin attempted to suck it back in, is what caused his eyes to roll and his heart to flutter.

The rebar fell from numb fingers and he slumped sideways. Dimly he knew he should fight the pull of blackness and tend to his foot but he had neither the strength nor the desire and he sank into thankful, painless oblivion.

He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious, having no way of knowing the passing of time. He woke up groggy and thirsty, foot bare and throbbing and pulsating, the pain felt clear to his hip. By scratching and crawling his way up the wall, he gained his feet. By bearing all his weight on his heel, he hobbled to an opposite wall where water trickled steadily down the rocks.

It was time-consuming, painstakingly slow and he blacked-out several times, making the process even longer, but he soaked one sock and several strips of flannel and cleaned both wounds on his foot best as he could in the dark with shaking hands. He cupped his hands and slurped water, not as much as he wanted but enough to quench the worst of his thirst and then exhausted, let himself pass out.

After waking up the third or fourth or twentieth time, he bound his foot with his make-shift bandages, replaced his boot, tied it as tight as he could and struggled to his feet. He tested his weight on his bum foot, concluded it wouldn't support him and resumed hobbling on his heel as he explored his prison.

The only way out, was up. He was searching for the driest place to lie down so he could get some rest before attempting a climb when he swore he heard a squeak. He forgot why he was hopping and hobbling, put his weight on the wrong foot and pitched forward, landing on his face. Okay, here was good.

Lack of decent water, pain, infection, shock and loss of blood conspired to keep him floating in and out of consciousness with no knowledge of how many days he'd spent at the bottom of the well. He dreamed, he hallucinated, he envisioned and he wrote a song and he was quite sure as some point, he sang it.

I gotta get out I gotta break free

Ain't gonna live in misery  
My minds made up I'm leaving today  
Come hell or high water I will break these chains

Gonna scratch my way, claw my way,  
Dig my way, back to the top  
Cause I never say die, I never give in  
I never stop giving it all that I got  
I'm breaking out of hell

From the bottom of the well  
It's a long way down  
From the bottom of the well  
I gotta get out  
From the bottom of the well

It's so dark and cold down here  
I'm all alone but I got no fear  
Cause I Have the will to beat this fate  
And get back up to the light of day

Gonna scratch my way, claw my way,  
Cause I never say die, I never give in  
I never stop giving it all that I got  
I'm breaking out of hell

From the bottom of the well  
It's a long way down  
From the bottom of the well  
I gotta get out  
Diggin and clawing and scratching and kicking my way  
Back to the top I will fight for the light of day  
Gonna find the way yeah

I made a death wish and it came true  
I'm under water black and blue  
But if you think I'm done you better think again  
You better think again cause I don't know the meaning of death

I'm gonna scratch my way, claw my way  
Never stop givin it all that I got

I'm breaking out of hell*

When he was conscious, he didn't know where he was or understand the situation he found himself in. He thought himself back in hell, back in purgatory, lost and alone drowning in grief at Lisa's, hurt and betrayed wandering through heaven. He grew weaker, his periods of waking up and knowing he needed to move and satisfy his bodies needs or try to climb or find another way out grew further apart until he finally submitted and knew no more.

***000***

"My, my, he's a handsome one, isn't he?"

"Hey, didn't know you were on tonight." Diane, the nurse going off shift, glanced at the wall clock. "You're in early, thought you were still on vacation?"

"Oh, those young ones these days." Beth, the nurse coming in for the shift change, chuckled. "You know how last night being Friday leaves her today; she's hung over so they called and asked if I wanted to pick up an extra shift. I only cut my vacation short by a day. So, how long have we had the pleasure of this one?"

"Came in Wednesday evening." Diane had her arms crossed on the bedrail. "Rangers found him out in the canyon near the foot of the Big Horn range."

"Any idea what he was doing out there?" Beth asked. "Rather odd place to be. There's nothing out there. Well, unless he was hunting?" she questioned but Diane shrugged. "Anyone come in with him?"

"No, and he hasn't been awake since he came in. The doctor says there's no reason for him not to have woken up by now other than the fact he's chosen not to."

"Huh, that doesn't make sense. Can't the rangers who brought him in answer some questions?"

"They found him unconscious on a hiking path. He had no identification on him, no cell, we don't even know his name." she paused. "Rangers found no campsite, a permit hadn't been issued and he wasn't exactly dressed for hiking either. Dunno, remains a mystery."

"I'm telling you, someone is missing this man."

"You would think."

"Have the police been contacted?" Beth questioned. Diane, still leaning on the bedrails nodded with a sad smile. "And no one has reported him missing? You mean he's been here three days and no one has come to see him? Not once? No one's called?"

"No one." Diane pushed off the rail. "I like to come in here and just talk to him, you know? So he hears a voice. It's not much, but no one should be alone like this. Maybe if someone he knew were here to talk to him, he'd want to wake up. I feel sad for him."

"He appears healthy. Someone has taken care of him. I mean, he doesn't have the look being homeless or an addict."

"Dr. Simone believes he's just exhausted. Mentally, physically and emotionally, exhausted."

"Huh." Beth gave it some thought. "No wedding band. Finger doesn't look like it's missing a ring."

"He wakes up, well, opens his eyes, looks around but it's like he doesn't see anything, you know? There's no head injury, they had him for an MRI. Dunno what kind of job he does, but it seems it's something physical. Poor guy has scars all over. He's been shot, had broken bones, stabbed."

"Odd tattoo, never seen one like it before."

"He'll need a bath and a shave…"

"For once, I won't mind you leaving that chore for me." Beth peered closely at the pale, still, seemingly sleeping man on the bed. He looked relaxed and peaceful yet she swore she detected a slight hitch in his breathing. Yes, yes, in fact, she was quite sure his eyelashes fluttered the tiniest bit.

"Ladies?" an orderly popped his head through the door. "Need you in room 312. Good to see you back Beth, how was vacation?"

The nurses were still visible in the doorway leaving the room when Sam's eyes popped open. Three days? Three days? He'd been here three, no - wait, four days? Wednesday and today was Saturday... Really? Seriously? Dammit, where the hell was Dean? He'd been here three days and Dean hadn't come to get him or at least called? Oh hell, something was wrong, something was definitely wrong. Sore ribs and aching head and battered psyche aside, it was time to quit lounging around and go find his brother.

"Okay handsome, time for that bath…" Beth stopped in the open doorway. "What the hell?" upon seeing the bed empty, Beth checked the bathroom, the immediate hallway and the public restroom just down the hall. "Now, where the hell did he go? DIANE!"

Sam walked away from the hospital with literally, the clothes on his back. He had no money, no id, no wallet, not a credit card, not a cell phone. All he had was his watch, pocket knife and lighter that had been in the dresser drawer along with his shirts and jeans. He didn't even have a coat warm enough against the biting chill in the air.

He didn't like to steal or pick pockets and he wasn't as good at it as his brother was, but when one was desperate, one found a crowded public place, picked a mark and helped themselves to both a wallet and a cell phone. Dean could pick the pocket of anyone, Sam preferred people in a social setting who tended to be careless and distracted and though it was still early for a crowded happy hour, finding a bar with a throng of afternoon drinkers was never hard.

Taking only the cash from the wallet, he left it on the bar and quietly left the pub and walked down the street, calling all the cell phones he knew them to have. All five went to voicemail. Cursing, he entered a café and ordered a bagel and coffee while taking advantage of the phones capabilities and connected to the free Wi-Fi. He needed to find out exactly what town he was in and how close it was to where he and Dean had booked a motel room.

After he finished eating, he called a cab, left the phone on the table, bought a packet of aspirin from the bathroom vending machine and walked out. He was in a town ten miles away from the motel and he didn't have time to dawdle. If today was Saturday than Dean had been missing since Wednesday and Sam couldn't afford to delay trying to find him any longer. Why had Sam been found but not Dean? Where the hell was he?

The room was as they had left it with no signs that Dean had been back. Sam's duffel with his clothing along with his razor and toothbrush were there. So was Dean's. The bag of various weapons they kept with them in the room was not. The laptop was. The car wasn't. Of Dean's five cellphones, two rang within the motel room before going to voice mail. Two others rang before going to voicemail but weren't in the room. The fifth, the current one Dean kept with him, went directly to voicemail. So, it was either turned off or wasn't receiving a signal. Tracking by GPS was not an option.

They'd been in the forest searching for an old, barely marked, hand dug grave from the previous century. They must have been close for old Harold had made an appearance. The last thing Sam remembered was distracting the spirit so Dean didn't go over the side of a cliff.

He frowned, playing with his phone. Surely Dean hadn't gone over the cliff? Sam's head had made contact with a tree and he'd woken up in the hospital with two nurses discussing how he'd come to be there. He could easily get back to where they'd been but could he easily find Dean on his own? And if he did, would he be able to get Dean out?

He made a few friendly phone calls. No John Doe's in jail and other than himself, the hospital. Their contact at the police department they'd been working with on the case hadn't seen Dean since Wednesday morning when both he and Sam had left the station. Neither Garth nor Sheriff Mills had heard from him. He let them both believe they'd had yet another argument, exchanged a few pleasantries and allowed his frustration to show only after he'd hung up. He sat and stewed; if he found out Dean had gone home with some bimbo from a bar, he'd break his fucking jaw.

As quickly as he'd considered it, he discarded the thought. It was doubtful Dean would have spent the last three nights playing house with some girl with Sam alone in the hospital. No, not doubtful, unimaginable. So, then, where the hell was he?

Sam called a few hunters from Bobby's contact book, asking around for information on either himself or Dean, but no one revealed they'd spoken to or heard anything about either of them. "Dammit Dean." he tossed his phone on the bed and decided on a hot shower. "Where the hell are you?"

The hot as he could stand it, twenty-minute shower didn't alleviate the sick feeling churning in his belly. No matter how he looked at it, there was no way Dean would have just walked away from him. If for some reason he'd felt it hadn't been safe to visit, he would have at least called the hospital until such time he deemed it safe to remove Sam from its care. The fact he hadn't been heard from confirmed Sam's worst fears.

Dean had been taken or injured and was unable to communicate. Sam flat-out refused to consider any other alternative.

He stepped from the shower, dried off and with a towel around his waist, sat down on his bed, wrists supported on his knees, Dean's spare phone dangling from his lax fingers. He flipped it open, thumbed through its contacts then closed the phone. He set it aside, picked up the TV remote and turned the boob-tube to a station airing the 6 o'clock local news but his attention returned to the phone.

"Screw it." he snatched it up, flipped it open, scrolled through the contacts, highlighted the one he wanted and thumbed dial before he could change his mind. He was exhausted and emotionally torn apart but when his brother was missing, he'd call anyone for help. Even if it was someone, or something he neither liked nor trusted.

"Dean. What's up?"

"It's Sam." his announcement was met with silence and he pulled the phone from his ear to make sure he hadn't been hung up on. "Hey?"

"What do you want?"

"Aah, I'm…" maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. "I'm looking for Dean."

"And you think I have him?"

"Have you heard from him?"

"Why are you calling me Sam?"

""I, ah, ended up in the hospital during a hunt." Sam said tersely, he hated having to explain himself. "I haven't seen him since."

"He's probably shacked up with one of your nurses. You should know him well enough to guess where he is."

"Yeah, I do." Sam snapped. "And he's not."

Silence.

"What do you want from me Sam?"

"Have you heard from him or not?"

"No, I haven't."

"Fine." he pulled the phone from his ear a second time, intent on hanging up when he heard his name called. "What?"

"Look, you wouldn't have called me unless you were worried. You said you were in the hospital. Were you hurt?"

"Not seriously."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When were you admitted to the hospital?"

"Wednesday."

"Wednesday? You waited three days to call around looking for him? What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I was unconscious." Sam said defensively. "Woke up a couple of hours ago."

"You just said you weren't seriously hurt!"

"I wasn't." Sam huffed, scowling at the phone. "Just…sometimes my head….."

"Concussion? I mean, are you thinking straight?"

"Yes." he snapped. "And I'm fine."

"Where are you? The hospital?"

"No, soon as I heard Dean hadn't called or come in with me, I left. I'm at our motel room. Our stuff is here, but there's no sign of him. Car's gone and his cell is either turned off or isn't getting a signal."

"You, uh—you okay?"

That stumped Sam and it took him a moment to regroup. "Yeah, I…yeah, I'm good."

"So, where are you?"

"Why?"

"Because Dean is missing and apparently not of his own free will. If you called me looking for him, then you've reached a dead-end in your search for him."

"I haven't begun to search for him yet."

"But you've called around."

"I didn't call for your help."

"You don't have to take it and I ain't offering it but I'm gonna come looking for him. Save us both some time and tell me where you are. We both want to find him; we might as well do it together."

Sam was silent. "Cowley, Wyoming."

"I'll be there tomorrow."

"I'll….let you know, I get a lead." Sam flipped the phone closed and pushed to his feet. He might have been asleep for three days but he was weak and tired. He needed to eat and get a decent night of natural sleep so he'd be able to think straight. Maybe then he'd be able to come up with a perfectly acceptable explanation as to where Dean was.

Ten minutes later, vending machine package of cupcakes in one hand, bottle of caffeinated cola in the other, Sam was walking in search of a car he could 'borrow'. Sleep and dinner would have to wait. It was dark and cold outside and his brother had spent the last three nights out in it. If Sam had anything to say about it, he wouldn't be spending a fourth.

Benny disconnected. Good thing he didn't require sleep the same way humans did. He had a long drive ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I soooo hope Benny is a good guy….And because I don't understand the reason for the Sam/Amelia storyline, I'm ignoring it….And because I don't know the complete history/lore of vampires on the show…And because somewhere among the seasons, I got confused how the boys summon Cas….

It was twilight, nearly dark, the moon not yet up when Sam reached where they had left the car. She sat exactly as they'd left her and Dean was neither in her nor anywhere to be seen. Using his key to pop the trunk, Sam packed a backpack with rope, a blanket, a first aid kit, several bottles of water, a lantern, extra batteries, extra rounds of rock salt for the shotgun and extra rounds of silver for the .9mm in his pocket. He checked his cell which was receiving a strong signal and dialed his brother's number. Once again, it went directly to voicemail.

"Fuck." Sam shouldered the backpack and set off in the direction they'd been headed on Wednesday, hoping when the moon finally rose; it wouldn't be obscured by clouds. He tipped his head back in an attempt to look up at the sky, but the motion made him nauseous and he had to rest against a tree until he'd regained control of both his stomach and his equilibrium.

He lost track of time. It wasn't easy hiking in unfamiliar territory in the dark while distraught and scared and feeling like he'd been thrown into a tree by a strong force. Indeed! He stumbled along, relying on an inadequate beam from a flashlight and his inner terror over his brother, to guide him. He shouted himself hoarse calling Dean's name but by the time dawn broke the horizon, all he'd gained was holes in his jeans at both knees from tripping one too many times. He was wet and cold, tired and hungry; his head hurt, both knees stung from scrapes and cuts and he was shaking and light-headed.

He twisted an ankle on a tree root and went down. His knees took the brunt of the fall and this time, he stayed down, falling to his side, head cradled by a pile of leafs. He wasn't anywhere near recovered from his unconscious stay at the hospital and though he didn't want to, his body demanded rest. His last thought before sleep overcame him was he hoped this time; some Good Samaritan didn't come along and find him.

When Dean's ringing spare cellphone woke him, the sun was up, drying the dew from the grass and leafs. He startled awake, flailing for his gun or knife until he realized it was a ringing phone that had awakened him. By the time he was able to pull it from his pocket, it had ceased to ring. He sat up and drank from a bottle of water before picking the phone up with the intent to redial the last missed call.

He didn't get the opportunity to do so, for the phone once again started ringing. This time, he answered it. His voice was hoarse and he had to clear his throat to even get the simple word, 'what' out.

"I'm in Cowley."

Sam switched hands holding the phone to his ear to check his watch. Just after 9:00 a.m. Jesus, he'd called Benny around 6:00 p.m. He had no idea where Benny had been and didn't care but if the vampire had left after hanging up from his phone call with Sam, he'd had a minimum fourteen hour drive, straight through, with stops only for gas.

"Where?"

"Gas Mart off 14."

Sam gave him directions to where he'd parked his car next to the Impala where they'd meet and hung up. He'd kept his meandering stroll through the night to roughly a two-mile circle from where the cars were and had found nothing. With Benny's heightened senses and it being daylight, Sam would be willing to veer off course and hike further into the woods. And if it took all day….well, Benny could see very well in the dark. He wasn't leaving these woods without his brother.

Sam retraced his way back to the cars then went off in search of water with which to wash and when he returned, Benny had arrived. He was casually lounging against the hood of his truck and while he stood up straight upon Sam's arrival, he made no move to greet him.

"Sam." he said finally. He said no more, keeping to himself his opinion that Sam looked like shit. "You look like you've been out here all night."

Sam shrugged, walked over to the Impala, put the bottle of mouthwash, soap and rag in the trunk and picked up his backpack.

"So, you were." Benny stated with a shake of his head. Well, Sam had never said he'd wait for him and really, had Benny expected him to? "Did you…?"

"Look, I know you have abilities I don't and I'm not above using whoever I need to, to find him. I ain't too proud to beg when it comes to my brother." Sam cast a longing look at the trunk of the Impala. He hadn't selected his machete to take with him and he briefly considered that perhaps he'd erred in leaving it behind. "But that's it. Keep the chit-chat to yourself."

"I wouldn't know where to begin looking and I wouldn't've known he was missing." Benny was rather relieved to find most of the trail would be under the canopy of foliage and tree cover. Sunshine wasn't his friend but if he must endure it to find the one man whose loyalty and trust he treasured above all others, he'd gladly suffer the inconvenience of sunburn.

"That's right." Sam ground out through gritted teeth. "His life isn't with you."

"But I'm a part of it."

"Yeah." he turned his back and paused, an uneasy feeling slithering across his shoulders. Not only was he asking for and accepting help from a vampire, he had to trust and depend on one because he was desperate to find his brother. "Let's go."

***000***

Fire.

His feet – foot – was on fire. Odd, to feel the warmth of a fire so close to his foot yet still be so cold. He moved his foot away but the heat remained hot and steady. The discomfort became strong enough it broke through his veil of delirium and caused him to rouse. Dean stirred, tongue darting out to lick at his lips, desperate for some moisture, only able to emit a whimper when none was forthcoming.

Water. He needed water. His body demanded it. Without it…..he wouldn't live.

In some distant corner of his mind came the memory of slurping water from his hands and he struggled to bring forth that moment of clarity. His eyes blinked opened and he fought hard to concentrate on the here and now.

Reality came upon him slowly but remained vague. He was sprawled on his back, in the dark. There was no fire, his foot burned and throbbed and ached and…dammit….made him cry but he didn't know why and no amount of hard thinking caused him to remember so he let it go. Pushed it aside and willed the headache he'd brought on with his failed attempt at remembering to subside.

Riiiighhtt. He was in hell and he was going to break out. He'd crawl and dig and scratch his way out, 'cause it was dark and cold down here and he was alone and he wasn't going to remain in misery. That's right. He didn't know the meaning of death, he wasn't giving in, he was giving it all that he had and that meant….water.

He attempted to sit up but had neither the strength nor the coordination to force his muscles to comply with his demand for obedience and after several minutes of fighting his rebellious body, somehow ended up on his belly. Fine, if he couldn't walk, he'd crawl.

Two arms and one leg cooperated. He hung his head and peeked under his armpit to give his traitorous left leg a look of disgust. His foot – 'cause, hey, it was on fire - he could understand, but his leg? Why wasn't it doing what he wanted it to? It refused to allow him to bend his knee and wouldn't willingly join forces with his hip. It was as if his thigh was no longer attached to his hip.

Fine. If he couldn't crawl, he'd slither. He dropped to his elbows and began the slow, torturous trek across the mud - and it was mud - for he refused to allow himself to consider that it might be something else he was actually laying in, on his belly and elbows with one knee pushing him along. He dragged his left leg, alternating between cursing and crying when his foot hit a bump or was pulled across a rock on the uneven ground.

His head smacked against a wall hard enough to knock him stupid. He slumped to the ground, his long, hard-fought trip to the trickle of water accomplished but unfinished. He passed out from exertion and shock, fever and infection running rampant through his body before he could drink any water.

***000***

"Care to fill me in?" Benny slung a sack over one shoulder and fell in behind Sam. He didn't expect a friendly conversation but he wanted to know what danger they might be walking into.

"Came out here to find a grave from the early 1800's. Far as we could tell, there was an old mining settlement out here and people buried their dead on their homesteads."

"Did you find the grave you were looking for?"

"No, but we musta been close for the spirit showed up. I remember distracting it so Dean could get away from the edge of a cliff….I was thrown in to a tree and woke up in the hospital." Sam fell silent. Benny continued to plod along behind him, giving him the time and opportunity to carry on. Eventually he did, continuing with all that happened since he'd woken up in the hospital to when Benny had joined him that morning.

"Is there someone who….could've taken him?"

Sam shook his head, pausing to drink some water. "No."

"Crowley or….?"

"So, you know about him, huh?" Sam capped the bottle and set forth once more. "Figures."

"I know a little about a lot but not all about everything."

"Yeah, well, keep the Winchester's greatest hits to yourself; I'm not in the mood to listen."

Benny nodded though he knew Sam couldn't see him. They soon veered from the well-worn path they'd been on to one that wasn't as often trod upon. The hike became increasingly inclined; Benny, having been deprived of sleep and not knowing when he'd be able to – ah – receive his next meal, wondered how Sam managed to keep going at such a fast past.

Sam hadn't been to bed the previous night either, had been inactive and unconscious for three days, receiving only IV nutrition while in the hospital and had spent the night wandering through the woods. He'd said he'd stopped to rest but Benny pretty much guessed Sam had passed out from complete exhaustion and it hadn't been in the relative comfort and safety of the car.

"How did you expect to find the grave?" Benny asked.

"We have a crude map from the town hall archives."

"So…we need to dig and…what…salt and burn?"

"Yeah…sure." Sam muttered dismissively. "That's right on top of my list of things I need to do."

"Don't we….aah, you know, need a shovel?"

Sam whirled on him and Benny, while trying to step back in anticipation of a swing coming at him, went down hard on his ass. He tensed but sat still, willing to take on the attack should one come.

"I'm not out here to salt and burn anything. I'm here to find my brother; you got a problem with that?"

"No, I don't." Benny relaxed when it became apparent Sam wasn't looking for anything more than a verbal fight. "But your spirit might. Will it recognize you? Will it come after us for the same reason it was going after other humans?"

"I don't know." Sam seethed. "And I don't care." he supported his weight with his hand against a tree. "If it does, I'll deal with whatever I need to, when I have to."

Benny didn't expect a hand getting up and sat where he was to let Sam get ahead of him. He needed a snack and he didn't need to see Sam's disgust. He had patience and understanding and anyone could see Sam was neither mentally nor physically ok.

"So, what about Cas?" Benny asked, catching up with Sam who continued his brisk, but slightly slower pace.

"What about him?"

"Have you called him?"

"You don't call him, you call for him." Sam said absently, thoughts elsewhere. Yeah, sure, right….Cas.

"Right, well…anyway…..why call me to help you and not Cas?"

"I didn't call you to help me! I called you to help Dean." Sam stressed. "And we're hidden from angels, Cas included. They can't find us unless we for call for them."

"I don't see."

Sam stopped and turned to face Benny. His eyes were shadowed and his exhaustion was apparent from the lines and furrows of tension around his mouth and across his forehead and in the tense way he held himself.

"Dean would have already called for Cas were he able to do so."

"And you're sure Cas would've come?"

"Aren't you?"

Benny nodded and Sam spun around and continued on. "Cas can invade our dreams to talk to us…..but Dean would need to be asleep naturally."

"And you don't believe he is." Benny said. Still, Benny thought Sam should have tried calling for the angel. Well, maybe he had, Sam wasn't exactly all caring and sharing and Benny wasn't about to go there even if made sense to him that Cas would've been able to find Dean and zap him home.

"We're not far." Sam stumbled. Benny instinctively reached out to support his weight but his gesture went unseen and he dropped his hand before he made physical contact. "Besides, Cas can't always hear us, he's been turned out of heaven and he hasn't been right since he…..uh, got back."

Benny didn't ask, back from where. He was damn sure, had Cas been an option, Sam would have taken advantage of the angel's powers. "And the rangers found you near here?"

"Don't know. Apparently they found me on some hiking path."

Yeah, four days ago, Benny thought. It wasn't Sam's fault the trail had gone cold. He shouldn't even be out of the hospital. He wasn't doing himself any favors being out in the cold, hiking through the woods with no rest or decent food. The kid kept going on determination and fear and sooner or later, it would cease to be enough and he would crash.

"This spirit, could it have taken Dean somewhere?"

"I don't see how." Sam snapped, then. "To where? There's nothing out here."

"Rather a strange place for a town. Mining settlement you said? So, homes, then…"

"Mining settlements were mostly tents." Sam stopped to catch his breath. He and Dean had already reasoned this all out. "Most homesteads weren't up here. There were three marked on the map and while we know the names of the families, we don't know who lived where and though only one had a graveyard, we don't which of the three it was."

"Towns were usually within a few miles of a productive mine." Benny said. "But it wouldn't be unusual for a house or cabin to be built closer to the mines than the town. A boss or owner would want his family nearby." he stretched. "So, would make sense to look for the mine."

Sam swung his backpack to the ground and dug through his pockets in the hope the map had remained with him. It was crumpled and creased but intact and he spread it out on a nearby rock.

"We were headed here…..here's the cliff…..here's a popular hiking path, probably where they found me…and here's a river…we're right about here." his finger tapped the map. "This should be the main entrance to the mine…so anyone with sense would build above the mine to have clean water…."

"And if they built on a cliff, they'd have one less side to defend. No one could come upon the property from the back." Benny stood on tiptoe to peer over Sam's shoulder.

"But the graves wouldn't be in someone's front yard. The church records indicated there was a hand-made marker identifying the small graveyard with each of the five graves bearing a rock engraved with the occupant's names."

"And you'd found the homestead with the graveyard, then?" Benny questioned.

"Don't know. I'm guessing so cause the spirit showed up."

"Then, we head to where your head met a tree."

It took another hour before they reached where the spirit had materialized and though they searched extensively, they found neither graveyard nor any signs that the ground had recently been disturbed. The fact that the map wasn't accurate, with most if not all the landmarks the map boasted no longer visible or altered, made their search all the more difficult .

By three o'clock, Sam was discouraged and both sick at heart and sick to his stomach. They'd yet to find the graveyard or any viable location where someone may have once built a cabin. In fact, they'd found nothing, not a trace, not a clue, nothing and the spirit didn't show. It was as if Dean had just up and disappeared off the face of the earth.

"Sam…we need a break." Benny said finally. "Least, I do. Let's find a spot, outta the sun and have a bite to eat."

"Poor choice of words." but he didn't argue, cupcakes and cola did not a meal make. His throat was dry and swollen from repeated shouting and he was grateful for the opportunity to ease his backpack off his shoulders and splash through the stream to the opposite side where Benny had moved to settle under a copse of trees.

"You drink water?" Sam held a bottle out to him, frowning when Benny raised a hand to warn him off, not accept the bottle. "What?"

"I…..be quiet." his head cocked to one side, then the other and his eyes closed. "Sam…hold your tongue."

"What? IF you think I'M…" he sputtered angrily. "I'd just as soon kill you, you know. I've done it before."

"You mean Gordon? Yeah, I know." Benny's attention was elsewhere or he'd have known it wise to keep the grin from playing about his mouth. "I meant, hold your breath."

"Dean has a big mouth."

"Gordon was a new vampire, hours old, right? Sorry Sam, I've got years under my belt…not to mention purgatory. I won't be as easy to defeat as poor Gordon was."

"Yeah, let's ask Martin about that. Oh wait…."

"Sshh." Benny put a hand up to silence Sam's rant. "Shush….sssh…be quiet and hold your breath."

"Stop telling me what to do." Sam slapped Benny's hand out of the air. "I don't answer to…"

"You don't have to like me Sam, you don't have to trust me but what you need to do...is shut up and hold your breath." Benny pushed to his feet. "I can….I think….it's faint and yours is pounding, like roaring in my ear…but yeah…yeah, I hear two heartbeats."

"Human?" Sam asked thickly, half eaten protein power bar and his anger and ire with Benny forgotten.

"Yeah, yes….human." there was no guarantee it was Dean and Benny wasn't about to share how faint and slow the heart beat was. They hadn't encountered another person all day nor had Benny heard or smelled another human since meeting up with Sam.

"Smell anything?" Sam got out, unable to voice the word, 'blood'.

"No." he shook his head. "You good to go?"

"Lead the way."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because in MY purple-sky world, Sam would never not look for his brother so I'm going to ignore how Season 8 started...And as I warned you previously, I'm going to tinker with Cas and his abilities.

"You're not going down there!" Sam whirled on Benny, fists clenched as he prepared for the physical fight, that in his current condition, he knew he didn't stand much chance of winning.

"No." Benny agreed calmly. "I'm not."

"What?" he stuttered, unable to turn his emotions on a dime, he failed to grasp why Benny had capitulated.

"I'm a lot of things Sam, but stupid isn't one of them. I'm not rubbing it in your face, but I'm stronger than you are and it'll be easier for me to pull you both up then it would be for you to…"

"I don't need your help to climb out." Sam bit out tersely "I can do it myself."

"You're assuming you won't have to carry him out."

Sam's eyes closed, nostrils flaring as he breathed deeply in an attempt to keep control. Seeing his brother lying, unmoving at the bottom of a huge hole in the ground had knocked him senseless. He didn't know how badly Dean was injured, only had Benny's assurance he could still hear two heart beats as proof Dean was alive and reality was fast setting in that he'd have to accept help getting Dean out. He didn't respond to Sam and Benny calling his name or the light they shone into his face, though to be fair, it was a long way for the beam to reach, or the rocks they flung at him, some large enough they would leave bruises where they'd hit him.

They'd found him because Benny had abilities beyond those of a human; could see in complete darkness, could smell blood and hear a heartbeat. Benny'd led them to a rotted, half-caved-in wooden lid to a long ago abandoned well, that despite having a man of Dean's size crash through it, remained covered in leafs and vines and shrubbery that completely and entirely hid it from the human eye. It was well off any path and how Dean had managed to fall through it would have to be explained by Dean himself.

Sam was torn. Could he bring himself to trust the vampire to get them both out? Trust the vampire to save not only Dean's life, but his own as well? If Benny left the rope tied off to a tree and down the well, took Dean and left, Sam would be able to get out. IF he let Benny go down the well, the vampire would be the first to reach Dean, be the person Dean first saw…be the person Dean responded to, be the person Dean accepted help and comfort from…..no…no…no fucking way.

"If you dick him over…." Sam swallowed hard, emotion getting the best of him and choking his voice off.

Benny didn't respond. He tied his rope into a make-shift harness, handed it to Sam and tied the rope Sam had brought to a nearby tree, testing his knots before tossing the opposite end down the well.

"If he's…." Benny identified the look on Sam's face as fury. "If we need help..." he amended, and waggled the cellphone in his hand. "I know you don't want to call in outside help but the rangers are minutes away…don't be an ass."

"We can get him out."

"Yeah." Benny agreed. "We can….but …." he hesitated.

"But. What.?" Sam growled.

"It might not be best for him if we do." Benny explained as gently as he could. "He…..his heart beat is faint and slow Sam….."

Sam stifled his fear, put all his trust into his brother's belief that Benny was a good guy, picked up the rope and lowered himself over the edge of the hole. He wanted to descend with his backpack but decided it'd be better for him to maintain his balance without it. Once he was down, Benny would pull the rope up, tie it to the backpack and lower it down.

"Sam….." Benny began. "Stop thinking of what you want and start thinking about what's best for…"

"I hear you." he paused, his hand clutching the rope all that remained visible, the rest of him down the well. "I'll…..you can hear me…..I'll let you know."

Sam had maintained hope, held on to the belief that Dean would be O.K. when they found him; that when he'd seen his brother lying, still and unresponsive to their shouts at the bottom of a deep hole in the side of a mountain, he'd simply been asleep. That hope and belief went poof the closer to the bottom he got and disappeared completely by the time his feet touched the ground.

He turned his flashlight on and swept its powerful beam around, up, down and around. How Dean had survived the fall could only be chalked up to their cursed luck. The well wasn't deep, he could see Benny's anxious face peering down at him, if not read his expression but it was deep enough, no one would have been able to ascend the smooth walls without the aid of a rope. What was surprising was how large it was. Hand-dug wells weren't known to be wide enough to house a car the size of Dean's beloved Impala.

Studying the floor, he could see where Dean had been mobile at some point; could see both foot prints and hand prints in the muck. A closer look at the walls showed muddy hand prints that suggested Dean had attempted to climb out. The smell that assaulted his nostrils had Sam wrinkling his nose in distaste and cemented his belief that Dean had been in the well since Sam had been taken to the hospital.

Shaking off morbid thoughts and quelling the fear that was ripping his gut apart, he stepped over to where Dean lay sprawled on his back, one hand close to the wall where a trickle of water from the wall dripped steadily over his palm. Heart in his throat, knot of tension and fear and emotion bouncing about in his belly, he crouched down and laid two fingers against Dean's neck.

"Dean? Hey, Dean, hey, can you hear me? Dean?" he dropped to his knees, flashlight held between his teeth. "Dean, hey come on man, time to wake up and yell at me for taking so long to find you." he kept up a litany of nonsense about pain-in-the-ass brothers and the Winchester never-ending life saga of bad luck and ill-advised choices as he checked Dean over for broken bones, internal abdominal injuries and dislocated joints. "No? Figures, bet if I was a hot brunette with a rack of D's you'd be moaning about how bad you feel and how you needed to be taken care of. Am I right?"

He heard Benny yelling somewhere above him, thought he heard him actually call Sam by name but he didn't respond, too focused on getting a response from Dean. Having completed his examine to his satisfaction, he turned to retrieve his backpack, expecting to see it sitting at the end of the rope where he'd touched bottom.

Nothing.

Though reluctant to leave Dean's side, he stood up and went to the middle of the hole opening and looked up. Oh, Benny was there all right, peering down at him, shouting and waving but Sam couldn't hear him. Anger flooded his head and murder invaded his senses. After all this, after everything, after pushing down his own mistrust and ignoring his instincts and putting aside deep-seeded trust issues to trust a vampire to have, not only his back, but his injured brother's as well, he'd been played for a sucker for the second time in his miserable adult life.

The roaring rage in his head blinded him to all else. He couldn't function or think or react. His ability to hear and see and think became non-existent and despite what Benny felt about Sam's defeat of Gordon, if Benny were within reach right this very second; Sam would rip his head off with his bare hands. Somehow, someway, someday, Sam would find a way to make the traitorous vampire pay.

Benny was hanging over the edge of the hole, shotgun aimed directly at Sam's head. What better way to rid himself of the two hunters most capable of taking him out then to shoot them dead in a hole in the ground out in the middle of nowhere. No one would ever find their bodies and maybe two people would even notice them missing. Sam doubted the police in the small town would notice their disappearance, let alone report two FBI agents missing. He'd been a John Doe in a hospital the next town over, only ten miles away, and no one had come forth to identify him as an agent working a case in Cowley.

Benny'd even made sure there was little to no hope of them calling Cas for help. Good Sam, real good, way to go. He was sure betrayal showed on his face but was also as sure, even with Benny's superior eyesight; the vampire wouldn't be able to see just how devastated he was. Hell, the vampire didn't even need to shoot Dean unless he contained a shred of decency and simply took the shot to put Dean out of his misery. Well, least Dean wouldn't die alone.

Of course, perhaps Dean wouldn't die at all. Maybe Benny only wanted Sam dead. Out of the way so his friendship with Dean could proceed without the complication of an untrusting brother in the way. No brother around to protest when Benny called Dean for help or moral support. Unlike the bond between Dean and Cas, the bond forged between Dean and Benny had never included Sam to begin with.

So he stood, glaring up at Benny, mind throwing murderous thoughts his way, refusing to give the vampire the satisfaction of last words. He waited for the taunts, the sarcastic goody-bye; the smirk he knew would be on Benny's face even if he couldn't see it clearly. Saddest thing was Sam would never know if Benny killed Dean or saved him.

"JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY HIMSELF!" Benny roared. "DUCK, you dumb ass! DUCK!"

Duck? Seriously? Duck? What the hell kind of I'm-going-to-kill-you taunt was that? Of all the stupid, lame-ass…duck. Frick-fracking vampires...duck. God-damn vampire couldn't even…..duck!

While Sam remained still and continued to hurl mental insults Benny's way, his body, took the notion to obey. He hit the ground as if felled by a mighty invisible punch, arms thrown up to protect his head, instinctively rolling towards Dean as the air exploded around him and he was showered with the remnants of…..salt? What the hell…?

Benny was still shouting but Sam was unable to make out more than the occasional word. The backpack smacked to the ground so close to his head, he felt the weight of it against his neck. It landed with a clang of metal striking rock and something hard butted his ear. He moved to sit up, the backpack had been thrown, not lowered on the rope that remained dangling and Benny was gone.

"Benny?! BENNY?!" Sam shouted until he was hoarse but no vampire appeared. "Dammit." Sam turned in circles, loaded shotgun in hand; flashlight sweeping arcs along every wall into every round corner but there was no sign of a rock salt splattered spirit. Like there would be. Realizing he was shaking, he went down on his haunches to root through his pack. Wasn't much he could do down here, but he could offer Dean some clean water and get him dry and warm.

So, Benny hadn't wanted him dead. Hadn't meant to shoot him and leave him to rot in a hole in the ground. Apparently, he'd been trying to shoot what Sam guessed to be Harold, the spirit who, for whatever reason had materialized in the well. Chances were he'd been the one to lead Dean off the path and was responsible for his fall through the rotted lid. Course that was all speculation; other than the fact Benny had shot at him – no Sam, be fair, over his head, - with rock salt, Sam had no proof Harold had made an appearance.

Great. So, now he had a brother to rescue, a well to climb out of, a missing vampire to find and oh yeah, a spirit to permanently dispel, because it was obvious it wasn't about to allow them to leave. Somewhere was Dean's duffel which had salt, lighter fluid and matches. Were they to find it and the shovels he and Dean had carried with them, as well as the actual graveyard, they just might be able to dig up the bones and put Harold to rest hopefully once and for all and then finally get his brother the help he needed.

Sam snorted. Right, he was putting his faith in Benny.

Convinced the spirit was truly gone for the time being, if it'd been there at all, he turned his attention back to his brother. He didn't' know what had happened to Benny. Didn't know if a spirit knew how to identify a vampire and be able to kill one and if it could, if it had to do it the same way a human did. Perhaps Benny had led it away from the brothers or had gone off to find the grave…Sam didn't know. What he did know was Dean had neither roused nor responded to the gun fire. Both the spirit and Benny were gone and Sam needed to focus on his brother and getting him out of the well.

"Dammit Dean." when Sam blocked his brother's nose from getting air, he didn't swallow the water Sam dribbled into his mouth. He tried slapping Dean awake, tried smelling salts, tried chafing his wrists and neck with cold water…nothing. "Come on….come on….you can't do this to me…not here…not now….you can't." he pulled his cell from his pocket but as expected, it searched for service.

Without Benny's help, there was one way to get Dean out. Sam wouldn't be able to climb out with Dean slung over his shoulder, not without someone pulling them up from the top. He hated to admit Benny was right about that. The only way for Sam to get Dean out was to secure Dean in the harness, leave him while Sam climbed up the rope on his own and then once safely on firm ground, pull Dean up.

He could always call for help once he reached topside. The more he thought it, the more likely he'd do so. Dragging Dean up the walls of the well, unaided could result in serious injury. He hated, absolutely loathed the idea of Dean remaining in the well alone so once he was up far enough to make the call, he'd give directions best he could, toss the phone to the grass, let them follow its GPS signal to their location and return to stay by Dean's side.

Decision made, he maneuvered his brother out of his wet coat and t-shirt, then paused, mind tripping over the absence of something but couldn't place what and continued to manhandle the limp body into his own t-shirt and coat. That left Sam wearing only his long-sleeved shirt but he didn't care. Next, he manipulated Dean into the rope harness, lingered a moment longer than was necessary with Dean in his arms, then gently dragged him to the wall and propped him up, unable to bring himself to leave his brother with his head in the muck.

"I'll be quick." Sam promised. Stepping away from Dean was more difficult than he'd thought but he forced himself to walk over and grab the rope. He gave it a quick tug to ensure its sturdiness and….covered his head when pebbles and twigs and debris came raining down to whop him across the face.

**000***

Benny ran. He ran with a speed and agility even vampires weren't known to possess. He jumped and leaped and he dodged. Damn, but floating spirits could move fast! He'd seen Sam safely to the bottom of the well, had waited with bated breath - yeah, ironic - for a signal to dial 911 but one hadn't come.

He'd tried to shout down to Sam but for whatever reason, Sam hadn't been able to hear him. Then the reason had become evident. Recalling the stories Dean had shared while in purgatory, spoken between them to pass time; he'd grabbed the shotgun and fired into the well. The last thing he'd seen had been Sam standing and looking upward.

Harold had chosen that moment to leave the well and reappear opposite the opening of the well. Benny had fired a second time but rather than dispersing like spirits were supposed to do; Harold had turned and melted into the trees. Benny had taken off in pursuit with Dean's abandoned duffel he'd found near the well opening after Sam had descended. He didn't see a shovel, but how deep could a hand dug grave be?

He knew he didn't have long; Sam wouldn't be patient or content to remain in the well. Benny also knew Sam would believe him to have up and left them there. He supposed he couldn't really blame the man, but it still stung. He skidded to a halt in a clearing just in time to see Harold disappear over a patch of grassy ground that when viewed with a critical eye, could be square. He turned in a circle, visualizing a crude fence from there to there to there with a gate over there…...

Ah-ha. At last, the cemetery.

Wasn't there supposed to be a marker identifying the graveyard? He saw no headstones either and there was supposed to be a marker for each grave. He ran in a circle within the square, darted first in one direction, then another, kicked with his feet through the briars and brambles, poked with a stick...nothing. Where the hell had that damn ghostie gone and why had she disappeared? Benny froze.

She? Harold had been dressed as a miner-forty-niner when he'd appeared behind Sam and when Benny had set off in pursuit. Some things Benny could see quite clearly, others, not so much, but one thing he was damn sure of: no miner had ever worn skirts.

Son-of-a-bitch! Two spirits? Did he care? He'd been led to this cemetery, that's all that mattered…he blinked; he must be seeing things. He wasn't sure how this ghost – spirit – whatever, thing worked but he didn't think they could change their appearance. He cursed, blinked again, rubbed his eyes and looked again. Sure enough, hovering over a patch of grass, off to his left, was the flimsy visage of – yes indeedy sweetie, a skirt. He shook his head, looked away and when he looked back, there was nothing.

Now frantic, he ran the short distance, flung himself to his knees and tore at the grass with his bare hands in search of something, anything that would prove to him he wasn't committing suicide, courtesy of Sam, by wasting his time digging nowhere near the graves. He flung chunks of earth and wads of grass left, then right; threw clumps of dirt and pebbles over his shoulders as fast as he could rip them from the ground...nothing.

Yowling in frustration with the appearance and actions of a mad man gone, well, mad...his fingers encountered a rock they couldn't lift. He instantly calmed and brushed the dirt aside and there it was...a flat slab worn too smooth for any names chiseled by hand to remain. Soon, he revealed five headstones, all in a row but from left to right and right to left, each and every one was unreadable and he didn't have the time to dig up five graves.

Oh Bloody Hell!

The air above the graves swirled and blew from a wind felt nowhere else and the fourth stone from the left shimmered. Benny didn't question what that mean; he made his decision and began to dig with his hands in the grass below the fourth headstone from the left. He hadn't gone far when he encountered fist sized rocks. So, no coffin and not deep. Sending out a prayer of thanks, Benny got to serious work.

***000***

Sam stood, exhausted, with his hands bracing his weight against the wall, forehead resting against the cool trickle of water. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't climb out; he'd spent the past hour trying and had gotten no further than six feet from the bottom. He'd been pelted first with pebbles, stones and twigs, then when he'd gritted his teeth and braved the shower of debris, with rocks and tree limbs that knocked him off the rope. A fall could do him serious injury and he couldn't risk that.

He'd tried and failed to hurl his phone up and out of the well. Even flinging it repeatedly and catching it didn't keep it airborne long enough for the 911 call to connect. Calling and praying repeatedly for Cas hadn't produced their wayward angel, Benny hadn't returned and Sam couldn't think of what else to do; they were screwed. He turned his back to the wall and slowly slid down until his ass hit the ground; Dean, who had yet to rouse, by his side.

He assumed he was cold because his ass was sitting in wet mud. It wasn't until he blew his breath out that he realized the air around him had gotten colder. He cautiously got to his feet, walked over to peer up the well and stupidly tugged on the rope. Had he been at all in his right mind, he would have remembered Harold did not want him out of the well but exhaustion and despair and guilt had teamed up to render him stupid.

A whisper of air behind him made Sam turn around where he came face to face with a very pissed off Harold. He launched himself at the shotgun that lay next to Dean, ran straight into an invisible wall and fell flat on his face, cracking his chin against a rock on the ground. Fighting off tears of frustration and pain, tasting blood and spitting it out, he rose from the muck on his palms, raised his head...and his hair was parted by yet another shotgun blast. Going flat, he contorted his neck to look over his shoulder and saw the lingering wisps of Harold as he dissipated from the rock salt.

"What the...?" he pushed off his chest and pulled his knees under him to gain a somewhat sitting position. He fished for his fallen flashlight, coming up with it and swung its beam to reveal Dean holding the shotgun across his lap. "Dean? Dean...hey, hey, hey...you with me? Dean? Talk to me...say something."

"Sammy?" he rasped out.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, it's Sammy..." he scrambled on all fours until he was hovering over his brother, whose wide eyes didn't even attempt to shield themselves from the first light they'd seen in days. Sam dug through the bottomless backpack and withdrew a canister of salt. Dean watched him without comment as Sam sprinkled a thick circle of salt around them, pulling Dean away from the wall to complete the circle. "Hey...no fading out...stay with me."

"Cold Sam." he rasped. "Cold and dark and alone down here."

"No, no, no...you're not alone, I'm here and it's not dark...see? Right here, got a light." Sam fumbled the blanket around Dean's shoulders and hugged him tight. "See this? It's a blanket…..that's it…..hold it tight."

"I'm breaking out. Gonna dig, gonna claw my way to the top...'cause I ain't giving in...I never say die...I'm giving it all I've got cause I'm breaking outta hell." he clutched the blanket tight. "I don't know the meaning of death."

Singing. Dean was singing. Sam had no idea what he was singing about but he was singing. He hefted Dean into his arms and held him upright when he attempted to lie down. When Dean finally realized he wasn't going to be allowed to have his way, he begged for water, drinking greedily until Sam took the bottle away from him then he whined in protest.

"I know...I know...you can have more in a minute..." his attention was diverted as Harold materialized next to the dangling rope. He shifted Dean's weight to one arm and leveled the shotgun with the other. They were safe for the moment in the circle of salt and he could shoot Harold until he ran out of ammo, but it would only send the spirit away for a short period of time and those periods would grow shorter each time he was dispelled.

He fired and Harold vanished. Dean flinched, squirming and Sam lowered the gun to lay across his lap so he could hold Dean with both arms. "Dean...hey...can you talk to me? Are you hurt? HEY!" he grasped Dean's jaw and gave his head a gentle shake. "ARE you HURT?"

"Ow?" Dean blinked, hand latching tight to Sam's sleeve. "No...owiiieeee."

"Yeah." Sam fired at Harold again. "Whatever that means." his aim was off, his hold on the shotgun awkward, what with his arms full of shivering, shaking older brother who was singing nonsense again. He fumbled and juggled and managed to reload the shotgun, ready when Harold materialized again...only to go up in flames with a screech before Sam could get a shot off. "Aaah...okay." he struggled to his feet, dragging Dean up with him and over to the rope. "We're leaving."

"Back to the light of day?" warbled Dean.

"Sure." he hesitated, really reluctant to leave Dean alone. It was pretty definite Benny had been the one to put to Harold to rest, so he should be back soon and Sam would really like his help getting out of this hell hole.

"I'm at the bottom of the well-elle-eelll ell." Dean sang. "It's a loooong way down, to the bottom of the well-elle-eelll ell, I've gotta get out..."

Fuck waiting for Benny. "CASSSSSSssssSSSS..." Sam threw his head back and yelled. "CCCASSTTIEELLLEELLL!"

But it was Benny who responded; who came calling his name, yelling at him to hold on, that he was coming and would get them out and everything would be alright. Sam was so relieved to finally see the vampire hanging upside down at the top of the hole he didn't balk at the orders thrown at him.

He tied the rope to Dean's harness, tucked him, still snuggled in the blanket within his arms with his back securely against Sam's chest and reached around him to grab the rope. It was going to be a long, difficult climb even with Benny's help. Should he lose his grip on his brother or his grip on the rope and fall, Dean wouldn't fall with him, he'd be held by Benny who was steadily pulling them to the top.


	4. Chapter 4

They were roughly half way up when Dean began to squirm. At first, Sam's quiet reassurances spoken directly in his ear were enough to settle him down, but soon his squirms became aggressive and Sam was forced to stop climbing and hold him tight in an attempt to keep from being thrown off-balance.

He clasped Dean's legs between his own to prevent him from kicking but that put a lot of tension on his thighs and it was not even thirty seconds before he was gasping for breath. Dean, whose arms were trapped within the blanket was prevented from smacking at Sam's hands, but his head, well…he bobbed and flung and threw it sideways and backwards causing Sam to keep ducking to avoid getting cracked in the jaw.

"Dean…dude….come on….please…just be still. God, can you do that much for me? Huh?"

"SAM!" Benny appeared. "There a problem?"

"Jesus, he's heavy." Sam wiped his face on his shoulder. "Dean, stop it." he gave him a hard hug but immediately let up when Dean cried out. "Okay, ok, sorry, sorry."

"He conscious at all?" Benny was shouting so Sam could hear him. "With it enough for me to pull him up on his own?"

Sam thought about it. While he was reluctant to let go of his brother now that he finally had him, he saw the wisdom in letting Benny pull Dean up while Sam made the climb on his own. No matter what he thought of Benny, even vampires had their physical limitations. Dean, free from the bear hug once again began to flail about and Sam again had to subdue him before he either hurt himself or caused Sam to fall.

Sam's thighs were screaming, his shoulders ached and his arms were so heavy he could barely keep Dean contained. He briefly considered knocking his brother out but pushed the thought aside as too dangerous. Just because he hadn't detected any kind of head injury during his quick examination didn't mean Dean hadn't sustained one.

"NO!" he called up to Benny. No way, not with Dean still trying to bang his head against Sam's chin. Sam grimaced as he blinked away images of Dean dangling from a rope as he was bumped and knocked about while being hauled up the wall, able to bang his head at will against the unforgiving rock. Christ, he could break an arm or give himself a concussion.

Sighing with a wry grin, he tucked Dean's head under his chin and once again began to climb. Even if he admitted it to no one else, the fact was, he didn't want anyone taking Dean away from him. He'd rather push himself beyond his physical endurance then call 911 and have the rangers respond if that meant he got to keep Dean with him.

Selfish? Oh yeah. Stupid? Most definitely. Best for Dean? Probably not. Sam's way of dealing? Absolutely.

"Yeah...I ammmm." Dean dug an elbow back into Sam's gut. "Ow. Lemme go."

"Hey. You awake?" he frowned, as it dawned on him how hot Dean felt in his arms. "Shit."

"I'mma wake." he slurred but God, he didn't want to be. It was the warmth, he decided. The warmth and the comforting breath against his ear that told him he was no longer alone. "Water? You said..." he licked his lips; they were cracked and he tasted blood, making him cough. "You said...more."

"Soon as we get to the top." that Sam said he could have more water, he remembered. Figures.

"Lemme go."

"Can't 'less you can climb up the rope on your own."

"That you Sammy? 'bout time."

"Yeah, yeah, it's me...hey, hey...just stay still for me, okay? Please?" he waited. "Can you do that?"

"Guess." he twisted his lips. "Leg….urts…."

"Stop trying to kick me and I'll let you go, ok? Dean? Hey come on…...you still with me?"

"Cold…hurts…"

"I know, I know….I'll make you feel better soon, okay? Get you some water….get you warm….but I need you to stay still…ok? Dean?"

"'K."

Benny, sitting on his ass with his legs spread and braced out in front of him, heels dug in the dirt, was sure his arms had popped their sockets and separated from his shoulders but he continued to pull. His fingers, already torn bloody from ripping apart a rock and dirt grave with his bare hands, were giving him enough pain to remind him what it was to be human.

Still, he sat and pulled one hand over the other, hauling the rope higher until he heard Sam shout for him to stop. He laid down on his back, carefully rolled to his stomach and slowly turned himself around and began a slow move forward, all the while keeping the rope taut until he reached the edge of the hole.

"Right here Sam, I've gotcha." seeing daylight, Sam swung his hand for the grass, grateful to be to the top. His hand was grasped and squeezed hard then released. "Let him go Sam." Benny ordered. "I've got him."

Part of Sam resisted, bristled at the order but his common sense and instinct had him obey. He wound his leg around the rope, hung onto it with his left arm, and with his right hand, pushed his brother away from him and up into the waiting arms of Benny.

Benny accepted the burden of an uncooperative Dean, hauled him to the safety of the firm ground and ignored him, turning back for Sam. Now flat on his belly, both arms extended to Sam, Benny abandoned his hold on the rope and used brute strength to haul Sam up and out of the well where he collapsed on his back, on the ground next to Dean who hadn't moved.

The brothers safely out of the well, the spirit, and if there'd been two, he didn't care, no longer a threat and no signs of looming danger imminent, Benny did nothing more than roll over and like the brothers, submit to exhaustion.

"Sam…you good?" Benny finally sat up but instead of receiving a verbal answer to his question, it was answered by the sight of Sam kneeling beside his brother. He'd already removed the blanket, and was in the process of removing his coat from Dean who remained limp and unresponsive. "You, aah, thinking of undressing him out here?"

"He's wet and he's cold and he stinks." if words could bite, Benny would be bleeding. He gazed at his hands...okay, then….

"Need a hand?" he wiped his hands off on the ass of his pants. Dean's face was dirt streaked, lips split and scabbed, eye lids, even closed, puffy, lower lashes dry and red. "Damn Sam."

Sam, in his haste to get his brother undressed and clean and dry didn't fuss when Benny moved to relieve Dean of his boots. Had he been the one to remove Dean's right boot, he would have known the lack of a sock meant something was wrong. Dean didn't do barefoot. But Benny simply tossed the boot and picked up Dean's left foot. The laces were slimy and when Benny cradled the heel of Dean's left foot in his hand, Dean whimpered, causing Sam to reach out and lay a hand on Benny's wrist.

"Hey?" he frowned, eying his brother's naked foot. Dean didn't go without socks unless he was in bed or the shower. "You take….was he wearing a sock? Did you take it off?"

"No." Benny's eyes widened. Blood bubbled and dripped over the leather at Dean's ankle. Benny stared at his cupped palm, stunned at the amount that pooled in such a short time. "Bloody hell…..?" his fingers tugged at the laces over the tongue of the boot and by chance, his pinky encountered a hole. "Son-of-a-bitch….." he raised Dean's leg, bottom of his foot in Sam's face. "You see a hole?"

"Guh….aaahhhh…." Dean yelped with a wail that kicked Sam in the gut.

"What?" Sam took Dean's foot from Benny who relinquished it without a fight and used his bare hand to wipe off the mud and slime. "Damn."

"Something went through his boot."

"Something went through his foot." Sam corrected. "You didn't..." he paused, peering closely at Benny, looking for any evidence he was struggling to control his animalistic urges. He waved a hand over Dean. "You didn't smell his blood?"

"No." and Benny looked genuinely perplexed. "Still don't."

Sam didn't waste time pondering Benny's nose suddenly taking a vacation. "Jesus Christ...the dumb ass...why the hell would he pull it out?"

"You think he did? How?" Benny demanded. "Through his shoe? How?"

"Dunno. Shit, he knows better. Maybe he thought...hell I dunno. Can you….aah….?" Sam paused. "Dammit."

"You want me to remove his shoe or hold him?" Benny asked as Sam wavered, unable to make a decision. "I'm okay Sam." his tone was calm and steady, was supportive but his eyes remained on the blood that flowed steadily, not dripped, out of Dean's boot. "Sure….I'll…yeah.…..I'll hold him."

Sam debated over whether to remove the boot gently and carefully or pull it off. He settled on faster was better; Dean, apparently didn't agree. Maybe in was the light of day, maybe it was the warm sunshine or the soft grass, maybe it was the clean smelling air….or maybe it was the fact Sam wasn't at all gentle when he yanked Dean's boot off his foot...whatever...he howled, arms swinging, right leg kicking, left foot twisting in Sam's hold. Benny kept him pinned flat on his back but was unable to calm him down or soothe him in any way. Sam ignored him and concentrated on un-wrapping the flannel bandages that held the blood saturated socks around his foot.

"Sam…he needs a doctor." Benny advised hoarsely, eying the grotesquely swollen foot with purple, misshapen toes. Red streaks of infection were revealed when Sam used the t-shirt he'd taken off Dean to wipe away the mud and dirt. "Even I can feel he's burning up. Sam…..give in. Call 911." he held his cell and when Sam finally nodded, Benny made the call. "Twenty minutes, coming by chopper."

Dean flailed about beneath Benny's hold, trying and failing to free his foot from Sam's hand. Holy Shit, his toes were being plucked from his fucking foot one at a time. Hands held him down, held his foot, his leg was pinned to the ground...he couldn't get free...couldn't move...couldn't stop the pain that was ripping him apart, so he did what he could do...scream.

"Hey...hey...sssh, shush, Dean, I'm right here...I'll stop ok? I'm sorry, God I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." Sam removed his knee from pinning Dean's right leg to the ground and knelt on his knees so Dean's bleeding foot rested on his lap. "That better? Huh...hey, calm down, you're ok."

Dean tried to roll to his side and when he began to choke, Sam motioned to Benny to let him go. Dean dry-heaved in the dirt until Sam could no longer stomach to watch him. He gently wrapped Dean's foot in a shirt Benny removed and handed him then laid it on the ground rather than back in his lap.

"Come here." he picked an unresisting Dean up from the grass and held him against chest. "Breathe through it…come on…breathe….." he accepted a bottle of water from Benny and tried to put it to Dean's mouth but Dean bobbed and twisted his head. Sam raised his free hand to hold to the back of Dean's neck and shrugged his shoulder until he was finally able to juggle Dean's head into a position against his shoulder. "Hey, hey….water…you want a drink? Come on….that's it…..tastes good, huh?"

"Any idea what stabbed through his foot?" Benny asked.

"Does it matter?" but he knew it did, doctors at the hospital would want to know and he knew whatever it was laid at the bottom of the well. He looked down at Dean who had finally settled down, head now resting on Sam's chest, cheek on his bicep and swallowed hard. Dean's willingness to be held and accept comfort, Sam's ability to calm him and Dean's rare display of vulnerability, caused Sam's eyes to tear and he wasn't ready to give any of it up. "It's…um at the bottom...of the well." he winced, that was what Dean had been singing.

"No." Benny shook his head. "Stay with him, he's finally calmed down...I'll get it."

"Hello Sam."

Benny jumped with a shout of alarm. Sam did nothing more than gaze blearily up at Cas. Dean still limp and quiet in Sam's arms.

"Sam? Why are you out here?" Cas stared at Benny. "With him."

"Cas." Benny tipped his head in acknowledgement. "Aah, hum, so...good to see you, again. I guess."

"Because you didn't come when I called." Sam said, more hurt than angry but he wasn't about to dissect his emotions at that moment. "I called you for hours."

"You prayed, I came….What's the matter with Dean?" he made a face that Sam supposed was a frown. "Sam?"

"He fell into a well and drove….something through his foot." Benny supplied when it was obvious Sam didn't intend to answer Cas.

"I can no longer heal the dead Sam, you know that." Cas appeared upset. "Why did you not pray for me sooner?"

"He's not dead." Sam spat. "And I did, I started last night. Can you heal him?" Sam asked wearily.

Cas frowned, forehead wrinkling in consternation, eyes focusing on the wrapped foot. He bent over and pushed aside the folds of the t-shirt. "Is that a hole in his foot? There's a hole in his foot Sam. Why is there a hole in his foot?"

"Yeah, you know, cause like I said, something went through it." Benny offered tartly.

"There's a hole in his foot Sam." Cas frowned, forehead wrinkling in consternation. "I don't...a hole Sam, I don't understand."

"Just Help Him!" Sam ordered. Cas knelt beside Dean and put his palm against Dean's forehead. Cas tipped his head first one way, then the other. His eyes narrowed, then closed and he stood up. "Cas? He's not better! He's still bleeding and the holes are still there..." Sam began, voice edged in panic.

"I cannot heal him completely." Cas announced. "I tried but failed. I can and did, heal any permanent damage to his foot but that's all I can do."

"Say again?" Sam said stupidly, staring at Cas like the angel was speaking angel language and not English. "You can't or you won't?"

"I can't."

"But you tried?"

"Yes, of course I did, but..."

"Meaning what?" Sam shook his head. "I don't understand Cas, you're not making sense. Why don't you just make everything better?"

"Because I can't!" Cas growled. "And I don't know why….I don't know why I can't heal like I did before…I have no one to ask these questions of. All I can tell you and I don't know how I know it, is that it's heavens way of teaching you both a lesson. A lesson for you and Dean not to be so careless and reckless, so stupid. For you to rely on one another and be there for when the other needs you."

"Dammit Cas! He's lost blood and his foot is infected! He's been without food and sufficient water since Wednesday." Sam argued. "Okay...great, due to divine intervention, he miraculously escaped any tendon or muscle damage or shattered bones to his foot...thank you, but tell me Cas, how do I help him with the pain and infection and blood loss and dehydration? He's weak and..."

"I don't know Sam!" Cas barked frustrated. "I will go and see if there's anything else I can do for him."

"Go where? See who? Cas!"

"We're wasting time Cas….if you can't do anything for else for him..." Benny paused, hearing something no one else could. "Chopper's coming...we called 911. Let us get him to the hospital."

"There is nothing that can be done for him there." Cas announced. Sam opened his mouth to argue, quite convinced the hospital was the best place for his brother but with a whisk of air, Cas was gone. Back within seconds, length of rebar in his hand.

"He was impaled with this." Cas announced. Sam swallowed bile, trying not to choke. Great, dirty, corroded rusty rebar, - steel - well, least they were both anal about keeping current on tetanus shots.

"Can you get us out of here?" Benny gestured down at a half-naked, mud covered, bleeding, shivering Dean. "He's too heavy to carry back to the cars and Sam's about to lose it. Don't make me have to deal with that, I don't know how."

Cas nodded. He laid one hand on Benny's shoulder, one on Sam's, told them to each hold onto Dean and…..they were at the cars.

"Uh." Benny frowned. "I was thinking more, like their motel room."

"I tried." Cas explained. "I will return." and he was gone.

"Sam? We….done here or…..?" Benny hesitated. "Need a hand getting him in the car?"

Sam didn't answer. He knew Benny wanted to help, wanted to see for himself how Dean was, yet was willing to keep a respectful distance. He blew his breath out, not surprised when it caught in his throat. Okay, time to go, couldn't stay here. It was getting late, the sun would be starting to set soon, and he wanted to be back at the motel before dark.

The backpacks had made the trip with them and Sam watched Benny toss his and Dean's into the trunk of the Impala and remove a larger first aid kit and another blanket.

"Here? Or in the car?" Benny asked. "Can you get up with him?"

"Yeah…get his feet…" he stood, keeping Dean in his arms while Benny maneuvered his legs. Dean didn't take kindly to having his left foot touched, crying out as he grabbed hold of Sam.

"Sorry, sorry…just another minute." Benny swung Dean's weight from Sam so he could get a decent hold. "Jesus, I'm not touching his foot, got him by the calf."

"Dean, stop." Sam shushed, opening the back door of the Impala, bumping it with his hip to keep it open. "You can follow us back…but you get your own room if you're staying."

"So, the motel? No hospital? You're gonna trust Cas?"

"Don't have much choice." Sam grunted. "Give him a chance." Dean was beginning to stir, muttering incoherently and squirming to free himself of the blanket Sam was trying to swaddle him in. "Stop it." Sam smacked at Dean's hands. "I'll give him the time it takes me to get his foot cleaned up. See how high his fever is...Cas don't come through, I'll find a hospital."

***000***

"Sam?" Benny knocked on the motel room door, realized it was ajar and pushed it open. "Sam?"

"What?"

Benny entered the room and firmly shut the door behind him. "He come around?"

"Kinda."

It'd been a bit over an hour since Sam and Benny had carried Dean into the motel, given him a bath and put him to bed where they'd tended his foot to the best of Sam's ability.

"How's he doing?"

Sam shrugged; wiping his hands on a towel he balled up and tossed across the room. "Stopped singing." he sat on the bed next to Dean who was laying on his right side, facing Sam, bottom of Sam's shirt bunched in one hand. "He's quiet."

"Cas?" Benny asked.

Sam shook his head.

"You give any more thought to taking him to a hospital?" he saw Sam stiffen. "Still against the idea, then?"

"What can they do for him?"

"It's called medication…pain meds…antibiotics…"

"We can get those."

"Okay….." Benny ceded rather than argue. "How about attention and care? You…"

"He's got me. I'm right here."

"Stitches?"

"Soon as Cas returns. I only have ibuprofen and it's not going to be strong enough."

"Cas did what he could, he can't…."

"He can damn well pop his ass to a pharmacy and get me the pain meds and antibiotics I want. Let him tell me no and I'll ward him off so he can't get within a mile of us."

"You need a hot shower, something to eat and sleep." Benny suggested. "You're about to fall flat on your face…..speaking of which….." he handed Sam an ice pack. "Take some of that ibuprofen, use this and lay down."

"Can't."

"I'll babysit."

Sam shook his head. He hadn't been able to let Dean out of his sight since they'd returned to the motel room, there was no way and no one who was going to convince him to leave Dean alone with Benny. Nuh-nah, not a chance.

"What? You think for the year he was with me, he didn't get hurt? Every day was a fight, Sam. Yeah, I know enough to take care of him. "

Sam winced, turning away. Benny didn't push, seeming to realize he was trotting in unwelcome territory.

"Could…you…..go get him something to eat?" Sam decided to meet the vampire half way. "Guess…..soup? See if you can get him some soup."

"Chicken with rice, not noodles." Benny said. "And you like cream of chicken?" Benny hesitated, not sure whether to leave well enough alone or push his luck. "Sam, I would never do anything to you... I could never hurt Dean like that. If it ever comes down to it...if it's ever you or me...I'd...it's just, I'd...I'd never do that to him."

Sam gave a slight nod, jaw tight. Benny said nothing more and when the door closed behind him, Sam lowered a hand to massage the back of Dean's neck. Cas's words were beginning to sink in and he was trying to understand them. He continued to sit, needing the contact with Dean who snuffled into the pillow, more a whimper then a sigh. Sam bit his lip. Dean needed antibiotics and pain meds and liquids and here he sat, wallowing while his brother, though now warm and dry and clean and dressed, still suffered.

He'd decided to get up and go get the shower he couldn't stop thinking about since Benny had put the suggestion in his head when the air shifted and Cas was before him.

"Hello Sam." Cas greeted. "How'd you get that bruise?"

"Which one?" Sam dropped his hand holding the gel ice pack Benny had obtained earlier for him from his face and met Cas's eyes. "This one?" he pointed to his jaw. "Tripped." he pointed to his left temple. "Dean." he pointed to his cheek. "Harold." he pointed to his other cheek. "Wall." he pointed to his forehead. "Rock or maybe it was a tree limb." he gently massaged his right eye socket which had swollen into a black eye. "Fell."

"Who is Harold?"

"He's no more. Was a ghost."

Cas reached out and though Sam at first pulled away, he submitted and let Cas touch his forehead. "There's no brain injury. No swelling, no bleeding, no skull fracture…you're ok."

"Yeah…..Look, I need you to go get me some meds, specific meds, Vicodin and Dilaudid, Cas, hey, you listening?" Sam waited until Cas nodded. "And some antibiotics…..Mupirocin and…"

"I will get whatever you ask for, but you will not need them. His foot will heal good as new."

"His foot? Jesus Cas! You think all I care about is his foot? What about him?!"

Cas gave a shrug that was either apologetic or indifference, perhaps both. "I'm limited in my abilities, you know that Sam. He will walk again without a limp, he won't need surgery or rehab or therapy….."

"Fuck his damn foot!" Sam yelled. "Do you think I care whether he walks with a fucking limp? I want him alive Cas, I want him!" he sooo wanted to throw his head back and stomp his feet and howl like a two-year old throwing a tantrum being denied something he wanted. "If I have to take him with months of physical therapy and he still ends up with a limp, at least he'll be alive!"

Cas frowned, facial expression scrunching into a childish pout. "You're upset."

"YOU THINK?!"

Cas narrowed his eyes and disappeared. Sam threw his hands up and turned away, fingers clawing through his hair and dragging across his face. When he turned back, Cas was standing right where he had been.

"Here." he held out a brown bottle with no label, the neck stoppered with a cork, making it impossible to determine what the contents might be.

Sam stared.

"For Dean." Cas continued. "Take it."

Sam stared.

"It's medicine."

Sam stared.

"Give. It. To. Dean." Cas said impatiently.

Sam stared.

"Just follow the instructions."

Sam stared

"Right here on the bottle." Cas rolled his eyes, summoning patience to deal with the recalcitrant two-year old trying his patience. He thrust the bottle forward, forcing Sam to accept it.

Sam exploded.

"There's no…THIS ? You mean THIS. THESE bumps? BUMPS in the glass ARE NOT instructions Cas!"

"Most certainly they are. See, right here it says, mix two twixts of…."

"Twigs? TWIGS? What the HELL is a TWIG?!"

"Twixts, not twigs." Cas corrected, though to Sam it sounded like both words were pronounced the same.

"JESUS CHRIST CAS….!"

"You're yelling."

Sam stared.

Cas sighed. "This will help him with the pain and discomfort. Mix with hot milk and have him drink it."

Sam stared.

"What is your problem Sam? I don't understand. You begged me to come...I'm here. You wanted my help...I gave it. That wasn't enough. I did what I could for your brother, you weren't happy. I went looking for more answers, brought you medicine, you want more."

Sam cried.

"Cas? Why are you yelling at Sam?" Dean asked sleepily. "Sammy? You okay?"

Sam wiped his eyes with his knuckles. "Great Cas, great. Hey, thanks for waking him up."

"How did I….?"

"Dean, why are you awake?" Sam sighed.

"Don't you want me to be?"

"No, I want you to go to sleep."

"Then stop yelling."

"Right, sorry." he turned back to Cas. "Dean?" Sam pointed to his drowsy brother. "Drink milk?" he snorted. "Yeah, okay….sure."

"Yes." Cas said simply, not understanding Sam's sarcasm.

"Mix how much? How often? For how long?"

"Must I explain everything?" Cas set the bottle on the table. "You're a smart man Sam, read the bottle. I must go. If he takes a turn for the worse, call for me and I will come as soon as I can."

"WHAT?"

"This medicine….it has…what you would call….side effects." he set a smaller bottle of blue glass on the dresser. "Keep his fever under 103. If it rises above 103, give him this. This is all the medication you will need. If his fever doesn't come down within an hour…..pray for me. I will come right away for that will mean he's in immediate danger of becoming deceased."

"Cas…..CAS? What does that mean? What is that? How do I give it to him? What does it do? CASTIEL?! WHAT THE HELL IS A FUCKING TWIG?!" he howled, thumping his fist against the dresser. "CAS!" but Cas was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam snatched the brown bottle from the dresser, intent on hurling it against the wall and take pleasure seeing it smash to pieces but Dean stirred with a whimper laced with such pain that Sam returned the bottle to the dresser with a gentleness that defied his rage and moved over to the bed.

"Hey." he squatted down, chewing on his lip. "Still awake?"

"Cash?"

"He left." Sam started to reach out to lay a hand on Dean's shoulder but dropped his hand to adjust the blanket. "You with me?"

"Uhgghg."

"Dean? Hey, look at me...that's right...hi."

"Whadda want?"

"How you feeling?" Sam waited. "Dean? Can you tell me how you feel? Do you know?"

"H'ur'ts..." his tongue darted out to lick at dry lips, a tongue that was dry and thick with white film.

"I know." Sam sighed with a wince. What the hell was wrong with him? Here he sat, his brother dehydrated, feverish, in more pain than he'd thought – worse than he wanted to admit and he did….nothing. "Look, Cas said...well, Cas, you know he doesn't make sense half the time, right?" Sam guessed Dean wasn't capable of following a conversation but he felt better talking, so, he babbled. "He said he can't heal you...well, he healed your foot...the damage to it, I mean, least he said he did, but I dunno, something about not being able to make you all better because we did something wrong or some part of heaven or someone somewhere thinks we're careless and apparently stupid. I don't understand and Cas…...aww, hey…..it's ok….sorry, just stay still, ok?"

He laid a hand upon Dean's shoulder to still his attempt to…..well Sam guessed he was trying to sit up. He didn't apply force because Dean didn't resist the hold, just went limp under the familiar touch. Watery green eyes were wide and focused but Dean didn't' speak. Sam pushed the blanket off his foot to take a peek to see if he'd bled through the bandage.

He had.

"Dammit." Sam rubbed his eyes. "Dean, hey, I need you to buck up here and talk to me….I….." he rose to his feet and retrieved more bandages from the first aid kit before sitting on the mattress next to his brother who was fast becoming uneasy. Dean's foot was still grossly swollen; his toes still plump and purple and when Sam slid his palm under Dean's calf to lift his foot so he could rest it in on a pillow, Dean jerked away from his touch.

"Nooo…noon't."

"Sorry, sorry, guess that hurts huh?" he chewed on his lip. He had no idea if Cas would return with the meds he'd asked for. Didn't know how to give Dean the medicine Cas had brought or if it would do any good. For that matter, he didn't know whether Cas had truly healed his foot. It sure as hell didn't look like it.

Whatever the medicine Cas had given him, Sam simply didn't see how it was going to alleviate all his brothers symptoms. Dehydration and infection and blood loss, lack of nutrition, pain and…..Sam eyed the tell-tale flush on Dean's cheeks - fever. And oh yeah, they didn't possess a thermometer.

He only had Cas's word that a hospital wouldn't do his brother any good. If he took Dean to a doctor, they could tell him how bad the injury to his foot was. Give him an IV solution for hydration, treat him for infection, tell him whether Dean had lost more blood then he was guessing he had, and tell him if his brother would benefit from a transfusion.

Dean squirmed with a whimper, head rolling one way, then the other repeatedly until Sam placed a cool palm on his forehead, then he brought his head off the pillow to press against the coolness, turning his cheek to rest against Sam's wrist.

"Okay, ok…." he offered Dean some water from a plastic cup; he drank greedily until Sam took it away from him for fear of making him sick. "Sips Dean, just…sips." the routine went on for several minutes, Dean drinking when Sam let him. "Shit, this can't be good."

He didn't have any milk, didn't think to call Benny, so had no way to give Dean Cas's medicine. He wasn't even sure he wanted to. He trusted Cas, he did. He just didn't understand why the angel was being cryptic and evasive, maybe it was truly because the angel didn't know who he answered to anymore or maybe it was because Sam wasn't in his right mind. Not with Dean down and Benny here and otherwise alone…..he'd never missed Bobby so much as he did right then.

Dean finally refused the offer of water and Sam set the cup on the table between the beds. He didn't know what to do next. Well, no, he knew, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Dean was far from quiet and content but he wasn't screaming and thrashing and fighting and if Sam touched his foot, that's exactly what his brother would be doing. So he sat on the bed, face in his hands, fingers tangled in his hair because if he tried to move away, Dean protested his absence with a moan and a grab with his hand.

Sam swallowed hard, unnerved by his brother's show – display – of…..of what? Wasn't affection, wasn't vulnerability, was more of a desire to not be alone and what the hell was Sam supposed to make of that? If he took Dean to the hospital, it'd be hours until he'd be allowed to see him and how would Dean handle being confused and disoriented and alone? Sam nowhere around and not answering if, when, Dean called out for him?

"Okay, ok, I'm right here, not going anywhere." he shushed at Dean until he lay still and fell quiet. Sam felt sick to his stomach and he sipped at some water, wondering at the cause of the nausea. Might be his head, might be nerves, might be lack of decent meals and sleep, could be fear and anxiety and confusion….hell, he didn't know.

***000***

Benny hadn't been able to find a diner or restaurant that served soup, so he'd gone to a grocery store, bought canned soup, package of Styrofoam disposable bowls, box of crackers, package of plastic ware and returned to the motel room.

He wasn't sure if he should stick around and had yet to book himself a room. He didn't know how long Sam planned on staying, or really, what he planned at all. Sam didn't want him around, didn't want him near Dean, didn't want his help, yet hadn't asked Benny to get lost and Dean, well, Dean had yet to even acknowledge Benny was there. When he did, he could very well tell Benny to leave even if Sam didn't. And Benny would go.

"Sam?" he knocked on the motel room door. "Sam? It's Benny."

He waited, plastic bag of groceries swinging from two fingers. He knocked a third time then eased the door open. When he wasn't greeted with a harsh order to raise his hands or a blunt object swinging towards his head, he entered the room and set the bag on the dresser opposite the beds.

"Aaah. You…." his nose twitched. "Didn't shower." Benny said tentatively. "No hot water?"

"Cas came."

Benny chanced a look at Dean. "He….doesn't look any better." and neither do you, he added to himself. Sam looked wiped out. Mentally, physically, and emotionally devastated.

"Cas left medicine."

"Medicine? What kind of medicine? For what?"

"I dunno." Sam pushed his hands through his hair and cupped his chin in his hand, elbow supported on his knee. He wanted nothing more than to take a shower, scrub himself clean, dress in warm clothes, have something to eat and go to bed. He wondered if Dean would let him go if he promised to come back and lay down next to him. "He didn't make any sense, least none I could understand."

"What do you want to do?"

"What?"

"He's your brother Sam…..you…well, you can do whatever you want. It's your decision." yours and no one else's, Benny thought but knew it was wise to keep that thought to himself. "You can trust Cas, you can take him to the hospital, you can try to take care of him yourself, though….."

"Though, what?"

"I'm not…I mean, I don't know…."

"Say it."

"Why?" Benny shrugged. "Why would you want to?"

"Because…just 'cause." Sam shrugged. "Cause I can."

"Can you?" Benny countered. "He's….well, is he asleep? Go take a shower. I'll heat the soup and you can see if he'll eat something when you're dressed."

"I….." Sam frowned. "What do you mean, can I? Fuck you!" he sat up straight, stopped from rising to his feet by Dean's fisted grip on the pocket of his jeans. "I can and will and have done whatever it takes to see that he's…"

"You're exhausted. You're pushed to the point you're going to hurt yourself." Benny interrupted. "'Pipe down, all I meant was, I was gone for over an hour, Cas left you medicine and you haven't done anything. You haven't given him any, his foot is still bleeding, and you haven't stitched it or….."

"I don't have any milk." Sam said miserably.

Benny's curiosity was peaked but he said nothing. He didn't know why Sam would want or need milk but he would've brought it back had Sam simply called him. Dean's phone sat right there, all Sam had to do was pick it up and thumb a button.

"And he won't let he touch his foot." he added morosely.

"Ok." Benny said and stood awkwardly in silence. "You…aah, want me to go out and buy some milk?"

"I dunno."

"What do you want to do Sam?" Benny asked quietly. "Forget Cas, what is it you want?"

"I want….." he broke off, rubbing at his eyes. "I just…I wanna be with him. That's all. That can't be too much to ask."

"You….." Benny paused, it dawned on him slowly. "You want to take him to the hospital? You don't have to leave him there, you know?"

"Right, like they won't insist on keeping him." Sam snorted. "I don't like being told I can't see him. I don't like someone telling me what I can and can't do. I don't like him being taken away from me and being kept from him. I don't want to wait until I'm allowed to see him. I don't like being kicked out of his hospital room. I fucking hate that!"

"Then don't admit him. Once the doctors confirm what Cas told you, you can take him and go wherever you want."

"And if they don't?" Sam countered. Benny followed his gaze to the two bottles on the dresser.

"Okay then, I'll go out and buy you….some milk. Get yourself cleaned up 'cause no matter how much he carries on, you're gonna have to stitch that foot."

"It needs to be done." Sam agreed, decision made. "But a doctor can do it."

Benny didn't accompany them inside the hospital. Sam didn't invite him and Benny didn't offer. Sam didn't know where the hell he'd gone and he didn't care. They were met at the door and Dean was taken away and Sam sat, alone on an uncomfortable chair in the ER waiting room, clip board ignored in one hand.

He knew it'd be hours, knew he'd have to come up with a story of explanation, knew he'd have to hide the fact he'd been admitted to a hospital two towns over with an unexplained head injury. Dimly he recalled the 911 call, the chopper coming but they hadn't been there. He wondered if any of that mattered. Wondered if the police would come? He wondered if he cared.

He knew he should go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. Acknowledged he probably should have showered and changed before coming to the hospital. Oh right, like Dean's health and need for and right to medical care should wait until Sam was clean and comfortable. Mental slap to his forehead; what the hell was wrong with him?

So, he sat and waited. Wandered to the vending machine, got a cup of coffee flavored lukewarm water, package of stale donuts and waited. Used the men's room, washed up and waited. He thumbed through various magazines and waited. Watched TV and waited. Worked on a jigsaw puzzle and waited. He had no one to call, no one to sit with him while he….waited.

God, he hated waiting. A nurse came for the forms he was supposed to have filled out. Routine questions, questions whose answers he knew by heart; prior medical history, family traits, note of any allergies, list of medications….he guffawed, how did one list brown bottle of heavenly medicine acquired from an angel of God? On and on and on and…..he couldn't even remember his own brothers age. He mumbled an apology, and after a gentle scold, the nurse promised to return in half an hour for the completed forms and left him alone to wait.

A doctor, not Dean's, more likely a resident came to ask questions. Did Sam know what had gone through Dean's foot? Did he know how Dean had been impaled with a length of rebar? Did Sam remove it? Who had? Why? When? Where? How long ago? How much time had passed until he'd been able to obtain medical care for Dean? What had been the delay? Blah, blah, blah, yadda yadda, the doctor nodded and was gone and Sam…..waited.

He was sure, at some point, he dosed off, because he was tired and had nothing else to do but…..wait. Time passed, people came, people went, a few tried to make small talk; someone offered him a soda…and he waited.

How long did it take to have x-rays? Jesus Christ. He knew hours had passed, it had to be dark outside, hell, dawn would be breaking soon and yet he sat and waited….He should go find the doctor, demand answers, insist on being taken to see Dean but he sat and…..he waited.

"Hey Sam."

Sam opened his one eye that hadn't swollen shut, head resting against the wall behind him. The blurry form of Benny stood in front of him some distance away. He let his eye close without acknowledging the vampire.

"Brought you a change of clothing, the nurse said there's a shower you can use."

"I'm ok."

"Yeah, no you're not…..come on…you stink and it's not just me who can smell you." Benny drawled, drawing looks from everyone else in the waiting room. Sam managed to pull off the dirty look with both eyes closed. Benny smirked. "She'll get you some Tylenol and an ice pack."

"Later."

"When was the last time you had something to eat? And don't give me that half eaten candy bar out in the woods this afternoon."

"Power bar." Sam corrected. "Yesterday."

"Yesterday what? Have you eaten anything since you've been here?"

"Donuts. Doctor has to come soon, it's been all night, then I'll go get breakfast."

"Breakfast? Sam, it's 10 o'clock."

"Fine, whatever…..I'll get lunch."

"P.M. Sam. It's just after 10 o'clock at night."

"No way." his eye closed.

Benny looked at Sam with concern. For the first time, he worried that perhaps Sam wasn't as ok as he'd led the vampire to believe. He'd been unconscious in the hospital for days. Had woken up and walked out then gone hiking in the woods, spending the night on the ground only to wake up and spend the day hiking. Benny was sure the truth was, Sam didn't know how hard he'd been hit in the head. His face sure looked like he'd gone a few rounds without lifting a hand to defend himself.

"Memmbe…."Benny paused, not sure how to tread with Sam who had the potential to go volatile without much provocation. "Memmbe you should get yourself looked at."

"Why?" he didn't want Benny's advice or suggestions. He didn't even want the vampire there. "I'm ok."

"Right, well, whatever." Benny shifted his weight uneasily. "I, aah, ain't staying. I don't….it's not a good place for me, you know? Just…you need anything, call me. I'll be at the motel."

Sam nodded. Wow, 10 o'clock? He swore it'd been all night. Okay, sure, he'd lost track of time, didn't know what time they'd left the woods or how long they'd spent at the motel but…it wasn't dawn? Really?

His eyes fell upon the folded jeans and shirt sitting on a chair next to him. His shaving kit sat atop the clothes, taunting, teasing, and tempting him with its contents: Shampoo, soap, deodorant, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash. Benny had gotten that close to him and he hadn't known. That also meant, Benny had been in their motel room and gone through Sam's personal belongings. Son-of-a-bitch.

He got up, collected the items and made his way to the front desk where the nurse happily led him to an unoccupied patient's room where he made use of the room's shower/toilet bathroom and sink. Once showered and dressed, he asked the same nurse for directions to a diner where he could grab something to eat. The closest twenty-four hour restaurant to the hospital was a chain donut shop where he got a sandwich and coffee to go and returned to the waiting room to…wait.

He was asleep when the doctor finally came to talk to him. He sat up, only one eye obeyed his command to open and though it did so, it balked at the request to focus. The doctor began his spiel before Sam was able to comprehend what he was saying.

By the time he was able to catch up and hear actual words, the doctor had taken his silence as both agreement and acceptance. They were keeping Dean. He was severely dehydrated, running a fever over 102, had sustained blood loss but was not in need of a transfusion. They needed to gain control of the infection and get his fever down and he wasn't responding to treatment.

How well did his brother respond to antibiotics? Did he handle pain well? No, there was no damage to his foot. Surgery was not required. The doctors were mystified. Must be a miracle. He'd be in some pain for a while, there'd be swelling and discomfort but he wouldn't need physical therapy or rehab nor would there be any loss of motion or function in either his toes or ankle. Their concern was infection and fever.

If Sam would like, he could see Dean now.

Yeah, he'd like. Dumb ass. What the hell kind of question was that? They warned him Dean was asleep due to sedation and unlikely to wake up or respond to Sam but he was more than welcome to sit with his brother for a few minutes. Only a few moments, for visiting hours were over but he could return in the morning after 10 o'clock.

Sam snorted as he rose to his feet. Dizziness briefly assaulted him and he swayed, extending a hand to steady himself against the wall.

"Sir?" the doctor questioned.

"Long day, just woke up." Sam waved away his concern.

"Have you had yourself looked at? You've got a nasty black eye and…"

"I'm good, where is he?"

Finally! Finally, he was with Dean. Here he sat, next to the bed where his brother, one hand gripping the bed rail, the other more or less pinned to the mattress by the IV port, slept. Dean would sleep for a while, might wake up in the morning, but more likely it would be later afternoon. Sam knew better; knew if he wanted to, really wanted to, he could wake his brother up and he was torn. He wanted to remain with Dean, would stay at the hospital in the waiting room if they refused to allow him to stay in the room with his brother but….godammit, he didn't feel good.

At. All.

Now that he'd calmed down and gained his own way, sitting where he wanted, beside his brother, he was no longer able to deny what his body was telling him. It was mad at him and rebelling. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, his vision remained blurry no matter how fast or how many times he blinked. Rubbing at his eyes with his knuckles or digging with curled fists only served to make his forehead knock against his skull. His head - no - his face picked up the beat and pulsed right along with it, making him dizzy in a way he'd never in his life experienced.

And his ears, well, they were competing in a bell ringing competition, causing his stomach to churn and toss about until he was twice sent to the bathroom for fear he was going to puke. Both times he stood; his feet fought one another for dominance, unwilling to be placed where they needed to go in order for him to walk without lurching and grabbing at the wall for support. His hands took pleasure waving and flopping around until they painfully connected with something solid then refused to hold tight enough to support his weight.

If the rails hadn't been up on Dean's bed, Sam would have laid his head down on the mattress and gone to sleep. His neck would have kicked up a fuss when he woke up, but a hot shower would ease most of the kinks. He thought about lowering it, wasn't like Dean was in any danger of falling out of bed but…he frowned…Dean had two thumbs on the same hand, two noses, four eyes and where was his chin? Dammit, if his stupid brother would just lie still!

"Sir? I'm sorry….but you need to leave now." a nurse entered the room. "He's going to sleep until morning. Go home, get a good nights…" she stopped. "Sir? Are you all right?"

"Yeah." he winced, thumbs holding his eyelids closed. "Sorry, aahh, what were you saying?"

"It's late, you must be tired. Come back in the morning after breakfast."

"I'm good." he lowered his hands from his face and raised his head to meet her questioning look. "Just….I haven't…" he stopped talking at her startled gasp. "What?" he turned his head to check on Dean but he slept peacefully, hadn't even moved.

"Good Lord!" she exclaimed, taking a step back. Sam frowned at her reaction, Christ, he didn't look that bad, did he? "You sir, are going straight downstairs….and don't you argue with me."

Sam rose to his feet. He wished he was steady and able to confront her but his knees were weak and he remained standing due to his death grip on the bed rail. He waited a moment for his head to clear than turned to tell the nurse what he was going to do when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Well, damn, if he didn't know better, he'd say he was a cross-road demon. His left eye was completely red, no trace of white remained. Huh, when had that happened? Great, just great. What had caused a blood vessel to burst?

"Have you been checked for a head injury?" she demanded, hands on her hips. "Come with me."

He automatically responded to the tone of authority in her voice, turning to obey without realizing he was doing so. He was at the door before he caught himself.

"It's….I'm ok." he insisted tiredly. "It's just a blown blood vessel, nothing serious. I've been under some stress lately….I…"

"You might convince me to believe that if it was only one eye and your face wasn't swollen and bruised and your eye didn't roll in its socket when you try to focus it."

"Yeah, well…" he balked when she took hold of his arm by the elbow and attempted to steer him from the room. "Where are you….no…no, I don't need to see a doctor, I'm fine."

She took a moment to assess the situation. She didn't know much about the circumstances that had brought them to the hospital and while she felt she should push to have him go down to the ER, she really didn't have any authority to make him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, dropping her hand from his arm. "Have you eaten?"

Sam scowled. What was it with well-meaning females and their insistence that a meal would make everything all better? Man that annoyed the hell out of him! He opened his mouth to tell her exactly what he thought of her interference when her attention diverted from him to the doorway.

"There a problem here?" Benny asked casually. The thought going through his mind was Sam had flipped out, threatened someone and security was on their way.

"I don't believe so." she said uncertainly. "Do we have a problem?" she asked Sam.

"Yeah, we do if you think you're going to force me downstairs."

"Can we have a minute?" Benny asked quietly.

"Well, visiting hours….." she began but Benny gave her a charming smile and she nodded. "Sure….see if you can talk some sense into him." she slipped out of the room.

"What does she want you to do?" Benny asked Sam.

"Thought you left."

"Yeah, well harder than I thought."

"Why are you here?"

"Same reason you are."

"I don't want you here."

"I know. What's downstairs?"

"The ER."

"Can't blame her. Have you seen yourself?"

"Yes, and I'm fine."

"How do you know that? You left the hospital without ever talking to a doctor. What makes you so sure you're ok?"

"Cause Cas said so."

Benny looked around the room, gaze lingering on Dean. "Yeah, okay, sure, because you trust Cas so much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why are we here? If Cas said everything's gonna be ok, why did you bring Dean in?"

"Cas never said Dean would be ok. All he said was he healed his foot."

"He gave you medicine."

"Go away."

"Look Sam, to be honest, I don't care if you blow a blood vessel in your head and hemorrhage so bad, you bleed out. I don't care if your brain swells and you drop from a stroke. Yeah, I get it, you hate me, you want me dead, you don't want me anywhere near your brother, given the chance you'd kill me yourself. I ain't all that fond of you either….but to him, you matter. He cares if you drop dead or become a drooling idiot, so suck it up and deal with the fact I ain't gonna let that happen."

Sam clenched both hands into fists and stared Benny down.

"And this ain't about you. It's about Dean and what he needs, what's best for him. The doctors confirmed what Cas told you, there's no need for him to stay here but you can't take him outta here and try to take care of him yourself when you can't see straight or stand up or stop your hands from shaking."

"What the hell do you want?"

"If you doubted Cas when it came to Dean, then don't trust him when it's yourself. If you won't go down to the ER and get checked out for yourself, then do it for Dean."

"I'm fine." Sam insisted, blinking. Overcome by a rush of warmth, he swayed, hands flung out in search of support.

"Or maybe not." Benny caught him as he went limp and eased him to the floor.

"Sammy?" Dean was up on one elbow, glaring at Benny with murder in his eyes.

"Great." Benny closed his eyes and prayed for Castiel to fly his feathery ass down pronto.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, Benny calls Dean 'Brother' but you won't see/hear that from me.
> 
> And again, this is my twist/take on Castiel.

"You." Dean blinked, giving his head a shake in an attempt to juggle his vision back to seeing one visage of the two men in front of him. "Let go of him." he ordered, voice raspy, but strong. "Now!"

"You know what? I don't have time for your shit." Benny growled, letting Sam find his ass and pull away. "Don't start Dean, don't even."

"Get your hands off him!"

"I ain't touching him." Benny put both his hands over this head. "There's no problem here."

"The…fuck…." Dean struggled to sit up but his body was not having it and he fell back to the mattress, panting. "Aauugghh!"

"He's fine….Christ, what the hell you think I'm gonna do to him in your hospital room?"

"My what?" Dean tried to look around but his neck muscles weren't cooperating and his head fell back on the pillow. He let his eyes close with a grunt. "I'mma inna hospital?"

"Yeah, you dumb ass, you are."

"Sam?"

"He's ok." Benny assured him. "Dude's just beat; he's had a rough couple days."

"I'm good Dean, go back to sleep." Sam remained on the floor, ignoring the smirk on Benny's face as the vampire stared down at him. Days? Hell, it'd been nearly a week!

"Noooo." he roused once again, hand gripping the bed rail as he gathered his strength to pull himself up. Benny easily knocked his hold loose. "What'd you do that for?"

"Don't be doing anything to cause a scene." Benny warned. "The last thing we need is security called to escort me out and I dunno if in this year they're able to force Sam into submitting for treatment but I don't think….."

"Treat….Sam? For what?"

"Ssshh." Sam glared up at Benny, his look so disapproving he succeeded in wiping the smirk from the vampires face. "Cas said I'm fine, don't worry about me."

"Cashes's here?"

"He was. He's gone now." Benny again prevented Dean from trying to sit up. "Stay down."

"What're you doin' here?" the question was directed at Benny even though Dean didn't open his eyes. "Son-of-a-bitch." he sucked his breath in, hissing over an aborted move. "Ow." his eyes pricked with the sting of tears and he turned his head. "What'd I do?"

"You were missing." the now chastened vampire said quietly. "You hurt your foot."

"Oh." his eyes blinked but remained closed. "Why you on the floor Sam? Benny? You do that to him?"

"Hell no." Benny snorted. "He fainted."

"He what?"

"Not helping." Sam huffed, deciding to ignore the fainting taunt. "We don't need to do this now. The nurse will be back any minute to throw us out."

"Then it'd be better if she didn't find you on the floor." Benny commented.

"Yeah." Sam agreed but didn't move to get up. He craned his neck to look at Dean but his brother had gone back to sleep.

"Sam?" the air swished and with a flutter, an irritated Cas stood on the opposite side of Dean's bed. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting."

"Why are you sitting on the floor?"

'Cause I'm dizzy and nauseous and the room whirls around me and every time I look at Dean in that bed, I wanna hurl and then I think about how close I came to losing him - again - and I wanna cry and that coil of fear in my belly makes me hot all over and I break out in a cold sweat and then I get chills and that makes my head hurt and then I feel dizzy and nauseous and the room whirls….

But of course he didn't say any of that.

"What are you doing here Cas?" Sam sighed tiredly. "I mean, how did you even know? No one called for you." he followed the slanted look Cas gave Benny and despite his exhausted state, felt his ire once again rise. "Benny?" he spat. "You come when he calls you? Christ."

"I do when he calls on your behalf." Cas's tone matched Sam's in anger. "What is your problem Sam? You appear to still be angry with me. What have or haven't I done now?"

"Are you serious?" Sam exclaimed. "How the hell can you ask that?"

"Ask what?"

"I can't do this." Sam held his head. "God, I can't….I just can't."

"Why are you here? Why is Dean here? Did something happen I don't know about?"

"No Cas! You know everything I do. But you're being evasive and silent and cryptic and I don't know what to do! I don't know how to help him."

"You can trust me." Cas was still angry. "I couldn't heal him, but I helped him."

"You said you healed his foot, not him. He's not ok Cas. What was I supposed to do?"

"Give him the medicine I gave you."

"You refused to tell me how to do that."

"I did no such thing."

"Twigs or Twixts or whatever the hell you said, is not English Cas."

"I told you to mix it with hot milk."

"Milk, right." Sam said sarcastically. "Whole? Skim? 2%? Soy?"

"Yes, Sam, milk." Cas intoned. "Humans used to drink it straight from a cow."

"I need unpasteurized milk?" Sam gasped aghast. "Where the hell do I get that?"

"Why are you being so deliberately obtuse?"

"Okay, ok, hey, guys." Benny interrupted. "Now's neither the time nor the place to have this argument." the tired, frustrated vampire sighed. Well that was odd, he had a headache. He thumbed his brow, beginning to appreciate Dean in a whole other way. A peacemaker between two - beings - Benny was not. "Cas…no…Sam….you need to….."

"Leave me alone." Sam fought to his feet, refusing the offer of help from both Cas and Benny. He rolled his eyes at what was his life. Here he was beaten and abused, alone in his fear and worry over his brother and his only source of support and comfort came from a crazy angel and an untrustworthy vampire.

"Sam." Benny began calmly. "Do you want him to stay here?"

"Cas?" he asked stupidly. Once standing, he decided he was better off sitting down and lowered himself into the chair next to Dean's bed.

"Dean." Benny corrected. Good God, he wished he'd had the opportunity to have known Bobby. Obviously, dealing with the two brothers, in addition to the angel, was what had made the old man the drunken curmudgeon Dean had described to him.

"Oh." Sam swallowed. His tired, foggy, pain riddled brain couldn't process normal thought. He dimly recalled the doctor saying their concern was fever and infection and Dean not responding to treatment. He didn't really want to submit his brother to more aggressive antibiotics, but to deny him meant giving him Cas's medicine.

"Sam…..they can't do anything more to help him here." Cas said.

"You keep saying that." Sam recalled Benny agreeing there was no longer a need for Dean to remain at the hospital but not why. "Why do you keep saying that? His injury is…it isn't….I mean it's not….it's normal Cas." why did his life have to be so fucked up? What had he ever done? Why couldn't something, just once, in his life be what it seemed? Go his way? Be easy?

"You don't know that." Benny argued gently. "We don't know how he ended up in the well or what drove that rebar through his foot. You two were on a job, hunting a supernatural being."

"But here, they can give him pain meds and antibiotics and monitor him for…." Sam hung his head. Something as simple as a mere foot injury should be able to be treated with modern medicine. It didn't have to be life threatening. A hospital should be the best, safest place to receive care and for anyone else, it would be.

But not them. There was no reasonable or acceptable explanation, it just was.

"Mere hours ago you wanted….." Cas began, falling silent under the evil look Benny shot him.

"So, bringing him here accomplished nothing." Sam fought to keep his breathing even, his vision greying out. God, he was confused. Benny had wanted him to bring Dean to the hospital, hadn't he? And now the vampire was all gung-ho to take him and leave? What the hell?! And Cas….well…..no sense would ever be made there.

"They stitched his foot so you didn't have to do it." Benny spoke up. "And hey." he have Sam a shit-faced grin. "The nurses gave him a better bath than you did."

"He is clean. " Cas nodded his agreement as Sam snorted a snuffle at their attempt to lighten the tense moment. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and his lips twitched.

"And you know Cas didn't lie to you about his foot." Benny ignored the look of irritation sent his way by the un-amused angel. "So, peace of mind, right?"

"It's not fair." Sam said finally. "Whatever….happened….whoever, whatever did it, antibiotics and meds and treatment should be enough to make him better."

"And it might." Benny agreed. "But we don't know that."

"Can't you tell?" Sam asked Cas.

"I'm sorry Sam."

"Why don't you go see if you can find the nurse and tell her you're leaving for the night?" Benny suggested. "Maybe you can charm her into giving you some ice packs and something for the swelling on your face."

Sam was too miserable to comprehend Benny was trying to get rid of him so he nodded and stumbled his way from the room. Once he was out the door, Benny launched a verbal attack on Castiel.

"Look here, my fairy-winged friend, what the hell's wrong with you? He's barely keeping it together and you're not helping any."

"I've helped him; I've done what I can for them." Cas said. "I don't know what they are doing here. I gave him all the medicine Dean needs…"

"Yeah, but he can't think straight Cas. He's in pain and he needs to take something for it and go to bed. Standing here arguing with him isn't doing anyone any good."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Sam shouldn't be left alone with him. I mean, he's in no condition to take care of Dean on his own. Unless you can make Sam better….." Benny waited, but Cas shook his head. "Okay, well then, thanks."

"Why did Sam bring Dean here?"

"Because Dean needed stitches and Sam was in no shape to do it."

Cas frowned, forehead furrowed in concentration. "The medicine…. Sam should be able to read the bottle."

"Flat out honesty here Cas. You can't heal him, what makes you think the doctors can't?"

Cas paced about the room. He stopped next to the bed and leaned on the bed rail. "There was a time I'd've been able to heal him with a simple touch. That is not possible now. My touch heals but…..I have no control over how or what or to what capacity. I don't know why."

"Be it natural or otherwise, that injury and spending four days without treatment could have killed him….he could have died Cas." Benny said. "Am I right?"

"Yes."

"And he still could?"

"Yes."

"And to save him, you're willing to give him heavenly medicine."

"He's felt my touch Benny…. it wasn't enough…..and it won't allow modern medicine to save him now."

"But the medicine you gave Sam will?"

"It can, yes. It will give him a chance, but…..it was never intended for human consumption."

"Say what?"

"It's medicine man was never meant to have."

"What the hell does that mean?" Benny demanded. "Will it hurt him?"

Cas scowled, then turned his head. "It shouldn't kill him."

"And remaining here….."

"He will not respond to the doctor's treatment." Cas confirmed. "He'll fight through this, despite modern medicine, or…..he won't. Try the medicine."

"Because he felt your touch and you couldn't heal him?"

Cas shrugged. "I don't know Benny."

"Can you pop us back to the motel?" Benny asked, Cas nodded. "I'll get Sam."

***000***

Benny stretched out on his bed in the motel room he'd booked two doors down from the brothers. Cas had transported them back to the room the brothers shared where Sam had promptly kicked him out. Benny had expected to be told to get in his truck and hit the road and not bother looking back but Sam had said to get out, not go away.

He knew if Dean ordered to him to go, Sam would make sure he did but Dean didn't seem to care one way or the other if Benny was there. No, that wasn't true. He knew Benny was there and hadn't told him to leave, so that meant he was content to have Benny close by. That Sam would know and honor that, confirmed to Benny how deep the attachment between the brothers went.

He needed to catch some sleep and eat then would go shopping. He didn't need to worry about where or when his next meal would come. Cas had delivered a supply that would keep him happily fed for a week. An hour and he'd go out.

Once Sam had Dean comfy and cozy in his own bed, he crashed on the other one. For all he cared, the world could go to hell. This time, his brother was going to come first. He didn't know where Benny had gone, didn't really care what hole the vampire had crawled into, and yet his conscious refused to remain idle.

Dean was far from ok.

He dozed fitfully, repeatedly lulled to sleep by the steady, even breathing of the occupant in the bed next to him, jerked awake when it hitched or skipped or hiccupped; sitting up and staring across the space between the two beds. Usually, a soft-spoken word was enough, but a time or two; it took his touch to settle Dean down.

He didn't need to turn on a light; he'd never turned it off.

"Sam? Brought some milk." Benny knocked and waited, hoping the enticement of the milk would be enough to be let in the room. "Hey." the door opened and Sam stood back to allow him entrance. "You get some sleep?"

"Some, yeah."

"Did you eat? Kinda early for soup but….."

Sam just turned away, leaving Benny to close the door before moving to the kitchenette. "Okay." Benny decided to let the matter of Sam's need for nutritional substance go for the moment. "Um, how do you want to heat the milk? Got a microwavable cup?"

"I dunno."

"He asleep?"

"He's been uneasy but quiet since Cas dropped us off." Sam cast a look towards the bed. "Hospital meds are wearing off."

"How's he doing?"

Sam shrugged. "He hurts, he's in pain, and he's running a fever….foot's swollen….."

Benny let it go. Sam was tired and uncomfortable and cranky. No way was he going to hand the man any ammunition with which to attack him.

"Cas didn't stick around?"

"Does he ever?" Sam shrugged. "Said to call him if we need him." he eyed the brown bottle still sitting on the dresser. He walked over and picked it up. He gave it a shake, held it up to the light then used his teeth to pop the cork.

"Powder." a label was now on the bottle. "Add to warm milk, drink while hot. Do not apply to open wounds. Do not take cold. Take every three hours until no longer needed. Fever must not rise above 103. If high fever, vomiting of bile or bleeding from the mouth, nose, ears or….rectum occurs, administer neutralizing counter agent." he eyed the blue bottle and scowled. "What the hell?"

Benny busied himself looking through the single cupboard for a cup they could put in the microwave. Not for human consumption, huh Cas? For who then? An angel? Did their true visage have ears and nose or a mouth and….. did angels bleed? They didn't eat, could they vomit? An angel's vessel then? Wouldn't they just get a new one if the one they had become damaged?

"So, a mug's about a cup, right?" Benny waggled a mug about. "Say, a minute? Don't want it too hot."

"Still don't know what the fuck a twig is." Sam muttered. "Guess, go with the universal unit of volume, be it recipes or medicine….a teaspoon it is."

Dean had long ago lost track of time and where he was. He remembered being cold and uncomfortable and alone in the dark. He remembered feeling warm and being with Sam. He remembered being surrounded by strangers, all talking over one another, harsh lights above his head, hurting his eyes. He remembered Benny throwing Sam to the floor, Cas yelling at Sam…..Sam…Sam…..Sam.

He frowned, struggling to bring forth the elusive memory and grip it tight but all he succeeded in doing was making his head hurt worse than it already did. He hadn't thought that possible but now that it'd been brought to his attention…. good god, his head…..man, if poor Sammy's migraines felt like this; Dean was never going to smirk at him again. He'd dim the lights, kill the radio, and give the kid all the cold, wet cloths he wanted because holy mother…..this was unbearable.

And his foot…. his foot was hot…..burning hot….so burning hot, he kicked out in an attempt to get away from the source. The motion shot sharp pains up to his hip, making him clench his teeth to stifle the cry of pain.

"Get away!" he yelled, flailing about, trying to either pull his foot from the source of the heat or dislodge whatever was burning him but no matter which way he twisted or turned or how hard he kicked, the flames followed him.

Sam jumped when Dean yelped. He put the bottle of medicine on the table and walked over to the bed but Dean was not to be soothed any longer. Caught in the throes of fever and pain, he was beyond being consoled.

"This better work." Sam measured a teaspoon of powder into the cup of microwave heated milk and stirred until the powder was completely dissolved. The additive didn't cause the milk to alter in color nor did it have a scent. Sam hoped it didn't have a bad taste because Dean had never been one to willingly take liquid forms of medicine.

"I'll get some ice." Benny swiped the ice bucket from the bathroom sink and let himself out of the room. Ice probably wouldn't have much, if any effect on the swelling in Dean's foot but it wouldn't hurt it either and though Sam had left the hospital with gel packs for his face, it gave Benny a reason to leave the room and give the brothers some privacy.

"Dean…hey, hey, hey…cut that out." Sam set the mug on the table between the beds and squatted down but a hand on Dean's shoulder provoked him into thrashing against the blankets. "Okay, ok, stop it, come on…..dude, Dean – hey – enough!" he rose to his full height, leaned over the bed and held Dean flat on his back, pillows tossed to the floor, with a hand on either shoulder.

He wavered, not sure how to make Dean drink the milk without spilling most of it. Even if the medicine didn't throw off the taste of the milk, he doubted Dean would just willingly drink it. As he watched, Dean's face contorted into a scowl, not of pain, more like disgust and his hands batted the air at some imaginary target.

"Dammit." he grabbed for Dean's wrists, capturing them with surprising ease and held them in one hand. "Easy….okay? Just take it easy. I'm right here. It's me; it's Sam, your Sammy, okay?" he didn't know how he ended up where he was, one minute he was trying to hold Dean still, the next he was wrestling with him and now, here he sat on the bed, Dean sprawled across his lap, chest heaving as he attempted to slow his breathing. Well, ok then. Holding him had worked before to calm him down, both climbing out of the well and before Cas had taken them to the car, no reason to be surprised it worked this time as well.

Sam sat still until Dean went limp, his hard panting giving way to deep breaths as he settled down and gradually relaxed. Sam gave him some time before attempting to reach for the mug. As soon as he shifted his weight on the bed, Dean stirred with a murmured protest.

"What?" Sam sighed tiredly. "Please…..just for a minute, one minute, can you lay still? Can you do that? Huh?"

"Knat." Dean tossed his head until Sam held him still with a thumb to his jaw. "Atzzz…go…away."

"You want me to go away?" Sam blinked, taking the words like a punch to the gut with stoic silence. Damn, that hurt.

"Men-neee." he rambled on, a word here and there actually distinguishable.

"Benny? You want Benny?" his jaw clenched, sending sharp pain from his molars to his ears. No way, sorry dude, not going to happen.

"Hot." he squirmed. "Lemme go. Hot."

"What's hot?"

"My foot."

"I know." Sam soothed. "I have something that will make you feel better." but he couldn't chance holding the cup until Dean laid still. "Okay?"

Dean took a shuddering breath and laid still. Sam didn't dare wait much longer or the milk would have cooled too much be considered hot but every time he moved, Dean began to moan and squirm.

"Hate…..squeak….." he fast became agitated, kicking at an imaginary restraint against his leg. "Noo…hot."

Sam blinked against tears. He was unable to calm his brother or reassure him that he was alright and nothing was burning him. He couldn't make Dean hear him and failed to make him understand that Sam was right there with him and wouldn't allow anything to hurt him.

The bed springs squeaked under the combined weight of both brothers every time Sam moved and in Dean's fever-pain-filled state, he thought he was being attacked by rats. They were everywhere. God, he hated rats. They were beady-eyed, twitchy-nosed dirty vermin that were always squeaking wherever they went. He kicked and nudged and hit and batted until finally, silence. He listened, straining his ears but there was no more squeaking or rustling and Dean finally relaxed.

"Okay? We good?" Sam picked the mug up, careful to reach out with his arm and not lean towards the table. Dean stirred with a frown and a mutter, warnings that he wasn't happy. "Fuck Dean, what the hell is your problem?"

"Squeak." Dean complained. "Squeaking rats. Hate rats."

Sam sat and stared, comprehension finally dawning. So men-neee translated to many, not Benny. He wanted the rats to go away, not Sam. Sam started to laugh. He was so tired and depleted of energy and common sense he couldn't even recall his brother hated rats.

"Okay, ok…..you win…" Sam chuckled. "Drink this for me and you can have the other bed."

"Not….thirsty."

"It's a milkshake." Sam coaxed. He held Dean against him with one hand and held the mug with his other. "Hey…..here you go….that's it….good huh?"

"No." his lips pursed into a pout. "Not…..chocolate."

Right. Leave it to Dean to complain not that it didn't taste at all like a milkshake and it wouldn't, because it wasn't, but to bitch that it wasn't chocolate.

"Next one." Sam promised. "Taste okay?"

Benny let himself back into the room and set the bucket on the counter. "He drinking it ok?"

"He doesn't like it."

"Did you expect him to?"

"No, why would I think anything would be easy?" with some more coaxing and cajoling, the milk was gone. "Help me move him to the other bed."

"You need clean sheets?"

"Bed squeaks."

Benny shrugged and grabbed Dean's legs by the ankles. "He warm to you?"

Sam's head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "You can feel he's hot?"

"Can't you?"

"Yeah, course I can, it's just…you?"

"How high's his fever?"

"Dunno."

"Where's the thermometer?"

"Don't have one."

"You didn't think to tell me that before I went to the store?"

Sam glared.

"Right." Benny easily swung Dean's weight over to the other bed where he released his legs, bad foot supported by a fluffy pillow. "Ok, well…guess I'm going to the store…."

Sam nodded, lips pressed together.

"Get something to eat Sam. You won't be any good to him, you keep passing out."

"I didn't PASS out!" Sam called after him as the door swung shut behind him.

Benny wandered down the aisle of the drugstore and up the next. Really, how hard could it be to find a mere thermometer? Apparently, more difficult than he'd thought. He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair…the store had to sell them, so where the hell were they?

"Hi there." a cheery voice spoke from behind him. "Can I help you find something?"

"Uh, good morning." Benny mumbled, glancing around for trouble but the only two people in the store were himself and the store clerk smiling sunnily at him. "Yeah, I…..I need a thermometer."

"Oh, they're in the pharmacy…..so, what kind do you need?" she began to walk and he fell in step behind her.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Oral, rectal or aural?"

"Aural?"

"Ear. Those are the more expensive but easier to use. Of course, oral is more accurate. Do you have a preference?"

"Uh to be honest….the last one I, erhm used was….you know….it was glass and skinny…went under the tongue." he finished lamely, blushing.

"One of those?" she laughed. "Mercury…oh my, I remember those. Had to shake it down, had to sit still and hold it under your tongue for what, three minutes? I don't think we even sell those."

"Then…ear." Benny decided. "No…wait, you said oral is more accurate?"

"Yes."

"But you don't sell them?"

"Of course we do." she smiled at his obvious fluster. "Digital, not mercury, how old is the child?"

"What? Oh no, no…not a child….he's an adult. My….wife's brother."

""If accuracy is important, go with an oral one." she waved her hand over the selection. "Hope he feels better soon."

Benny paid for the thermometer and returned to the motel. He hadn't been gone long, but no one answered his knock. He hesitated then tried the door, finding it unlocked, he let himself in.

Sam was sprawled sideways on the bed they'd moved Dean from, feet still on the floor, arms flung out to either side. At first Benny thought he was either asleep or passed out, but when he neared the bed, he realized Sam had one hand under a pillow, gun aimed at whatever intruder dared come through the door.

"Just me." Benny said softly. "I'm two doors down to the left…need me just yell…I'll hear you."


	7. Chapter 7

"You get one?" Sam asked before Benny could retreat from the room. He released his hold on the gun and sat up, leaving it under the pillow.

"Aah, yeah. Never heard of an ear one and you weren't specific and the lady at the store said oral was more accurate…..they come digital now."

"Not so easy to use if the patient is unconscious." Sam pointed out. "Course, digital readings are faster, so guess it doesn't matter."

"You're welcome." Benny set the bag on the counter in the kitchenette next to the sink. "Passed a sub shop, brought you a sandwich."

"I didn't ask you to and I'm not hungry."

"Sam, enough…come on…you have to eat." Benny dispensed with polite conversation and prepared himself for Sam's displeasure.

"I did." Sam scowled.

"When? What? Two bites of a stale donut sandwich isn't eating."

"If you aren't here to help me with Dean, go away."

"You need to…"

"I don't need you telling me what I should or shouldn't be doing. I don't need you!"

Yeah, you do, Benny thought. "No, but Dean needs you." the vampire countered aloud, digging deep for patience. "You want me to wake him up, make him respond to me and ask him?"

"You try and….." Sam threatened, hands clenched into fists, eyes darting to the duffel bag on the floor that Benny knew held a very sharp machete.

Benny retreated to the other side of the second bed. "You want me to go out and get you something else? I didn't know what you liked, so brought turkey and cheese."

"What I want is for you to back off!"

"So, soup then?"

Sam wanted to launch himself at the well-meaning vampire, tackle him to the floor and proceed to beat the shit outta him but realistically, he didn't have the coordination to swat a fly. He doubted, due to the vampire's loyalty to Dean, Benny would do him serious harm but he didn't relish the thrashing he would likely receive.

"Could…you….just go?" Sam heaved a sigh, hands tangled in his hair. Everything was too much. The light, Benny's voice, the thought of food, Dean…

Benny hesitated, glancing at Dean who hadn't moved upon his entrance. "How's he doing?"

Sam gave a shrug that produced such a wince Benny doubted the wisdom of going and leaving the two of them alone. "He's quiet. Been sleeping since I gave him the medicine Cas left." he started to rise, then just let his ass fall to the mattress. "I'm gonna sleep some more."

Benny nodded. "Okay, do you…aah, mind….if I just hang out here for a bit?"

Sam grimaced, jaw tightening but he held his tongue and went flat on his back, swinging one leg at a time onto the mattress and eased on his side to face the wall, back to Benny.

"I'll take that as, 'I want you to get the fuck out but it's Dean, so do whatever the hell you want'." Benny muttered to himself as he went to put the sub in the fridge. "I'll just sit over here and read this book."

***000***

Dean let his breath exhale with a shaky rattle. He was despondent to discover he was still at the bottom of the well. He didn't need to open his eyes to know he lay upon hard ground, surrounded by slimy, smelly rock that he could not climb. He blinked, but his eyes remained dry and gritty. God, was his body was so deprived of moisture, he couldn't even produce tears?

Not. Good. Not Good at All.

He was thirsty, he always was and the thought of slurping tainted water, of which there was never enough, from his own dirty hand, made his belly curdle. Loathing the thought didn't make the action unnecessary so he gathered his depleted strength, collected his scattered wits and tried to sit up.

He frowned, coughing against the dryness in his throat now swollen from dehydration. He couldn't remember much of anything and certainly no order of events over the length of time he'd been in the hole in the ground but he was quite certain his last lucid thought had sent him crawling across the mud to the water that trickled down the moss-covered rock so why wasn't he there?

"You're awake?"

Dean tilted his head, searching for the familiar, yet out-of-place voice. What the hell was he still doing in the well if he'd been found? That voice, he knew it, but he couldn't place it. Wasn't Sam and wasn't that odd for who else would be with him? His tongue darted out, lips smacking as his jaw worked but he didn't speak.

"Thirsty?" the voice asked.

He was jostled, his head lifted and supported and the cool feel of glass caressed his bottom lip. His teeth bit tight against the rim of the cup and he gulped the water as it flowed into his mouth. Okay, a familiar voice and comforting touch meant he wasn't at the bottom of the well. Meant he wasn't alone, meant someone had found him and gotten him out. Not Sam, wasn't Cas….so who?

"Don't gulp." he was warned and though the glass remained between his lips, the wonderful flow of clean, good-tasting water ceased. He whined in protest, hand finding and grabbing the wrist near his mouth, holding tight as his tongue sought the water. "You can have more….but don't gulp it."

His fingers squeezed and his thumb pressed and prodded but the hand within his grip remained cold. So, not the well - purgatory. "What're you doing here?" he managed to lift eyelids heavy with weariness, enough to bring a hatless Benny into blurry view. That was odd, had he ever seen the vampire without his hat? No, he hadn't, so not purgatory either. Where the fuck was he? Panic hit him and his first thought was not of himself. "Sam?"

"Right there." a thumb on his jaw turned his head, still being supported, to the left where, after forcing his eyes wider, he was able to identify a fully dressed Sam laying all kinds of wrong-ways across the bed. "Kid's okay, just exhausted."

"What'd he do?" so, motel room, with Sam; all was good.

"Found you."

"I…don't feel good." he let his mind wander, taking a mental inventory. He was wearing a long sleeved thermal shirt, and, oh thank god, underwear.

"I believe you."

"Don't remember."

"Short story. You and Sam were separated on Wednesday. He started looking for you on Saturday, found you Sunday and today's Monday."

"The well." Dean forgot about Sam and returned his attention to the water, drinking until Benny took it away from him. "No! Want more."

"In a bit."

"Foot….hurts…..head…hurts."

"Yeah, you took quite a fall."

"Sam?"

"Let him sleep."

Sam remained as he was. He'd come awake the moment he'd heard the raspy croak from his brother in the bed next to him but Benny had been there and when there'd been no verbal or physical outburst from Dean, Sam had made the decision to let Benny handle him.

Truth was Sam wasn't at all sure he was capable of dragging his beaten carcass off the bed and attending his brother. His forehead, his eye, his cheekbone, his jaw, hell his teeth, were all auditioning against one another in an attempt to be the first to join the out-of-tune orchestra currently splitting his head apart. Each and every possible part of his head either ached or throbbed or pulsed against tight, swollen, bruised skin.

Had Dean truly needed him, he would have found the inner strength to do whatever it took to make his brother comfortable and give him the help he needed and while he was loath to accept help from Benny, Sam was neither stupid nor selfish. Stubborn? Hell yes, but until he could sit up without being assaulted with dizziness, Benny could stick around. And it wasn't like Dean was complaining about Benny being with him either.

Something was placed into his hand, wrapping his fingers around the towel-clad object. "He went back to sleep." his hand holding the ice pack was guided towards his face but when his arm flopped over his head to lay on the mattress, his hand was relieved of the too-heavy weight and it was gently laid upon the left side of his face. "See if that helps."

***000***

Dean drifted in and out. He didn't know how much time passed. Could be hours, could be days, might have been a week, he didn't know. He was warm and comfortable and clean and he didn't smell. Every time he moved, someone laid a hand on his shoulder. Every time he whimpered or moaned, caught his breath, hissed or simply made a noise, either Sam or Benny appeared over him, shushing him, telling him he was ok, asking him how he felt.

He awoke every time his mouth was invaded by something poking between his teeth. He was told to stay still and hold it under this tongue and after it was removed, his head was held and he was rewarded with the offer of as much water as he wanted. At first, he was merely uncomfortable but as time passed, he became downright miserable. He ached, he was hot and he'd break out in such a heavy sweat that when it dried on his feverish skin, it made him shiver with chills and though he wanted to rub the goose bumps from his arms, his hands wouldn't move.

Every time he tried to open his eyes, which was frequently, he failed. He was unable to blink tears; his eyelashes were heavy against his cheeks and his eyelids so dry and cracked, it was too painful to try and open them so he stopped trying despite the repeated order to do so. He no longer felt parched, his throat wasn't swollen and his mouth had lost the feel it was stuffed with cotton, so why didn't his eyes feel better? Why didn't they work? He heard voices in the distance, talking about him, arguing quietly before finally coming to what was apparently an agreement.

"Side effect, you think?" he heard Benny ask. Dean frowned; despite closed eyes, he knew the room was dim, probably because bright light made Sam sick and lordy, the poor kid didn't need any more discomfort. "Or is that normal for him?"

Was what normal for whom? Dean tried to concentrate; when that failed, he settled for merely trying to focus but that feat eluded him as well. What was wrong? What was going on? Why did he feel so awful? Why did his eyes hurt so badly? What was wrong with him? Why was Benny there? Something had to be really wrong for Benny to be in the same room as Sam and….were they talking to one another?

Ha! Sam shot Benny a defiant glare. See, you don't know him as well as I do! The warmth in his chest spread until he had to bite his lip to keep the triumphant smile from his face. So, best friend Benny might know what Dean's favorite soup was and was trusted enough to tend an injury Dean had acquired but he didn't know every symptom and detail like Sam did. Sam lowered his head as the depth of his immaturity hit him.

"Cloth with cold water?" Benny was still talking but Dean had yet to hear Sam respond. Where was Sam? Was he still there? Who else would Benny be talking to? "He's drinking a lot and often, could be another side effect."

"Can try it." Sam said wearily. "Huh, aah, don't suppose you'd…" he hated to ask Benny for a favor but he was too tired to leave the motel room. "Go back to the store."

"What do you want?"

"Eye drops, artificial tears? Something, anything that might help."

There was his Sammy. He sounded tired but he was close and he wasn't leaving. Dean wanted to open his eyes and see his brother but his body wasn't obeying any of his commands. He didn't need to speak to make Sam understand what he wanted to say; he could do it with an expression but….maybe later. The last thing he remembered was a cold cloth being laid across his eyes. Oooh, now that felt good.

More time passed. Hands were always on his foot, wiggling his toes or feeling his forehead or wrist…what the hell…were they seriously checking his pulse? More offers of water and soup and words of comfort and a cold, wet cloth for his eyes. A thumb massaged his eye socket and a finger stroked his eyebrow, forcefully prying his eye open and flooding it with moisture. It stung and he groaned his distress as light pierced his vision but his displeasure was ignored and the procedure was repeated on his other eye. He tried to fling his head first one way, then the other but the grip holding him still was too strong to dislodge.

He waited, panting, lips parted, tongue curled against his upper lip, expecting his reward of water for suffering through yet another invasive act of what he supposed was medicine being administered but the liquid when it came was not water. Was not anything he'd ever had the misfortune to taste before in his life.

He promptly spit it out. Having expected it to be water, he'd accepted a mouthful. His arms and hands and eyes and conscious thought may not work correctly, but the muscles needed to spit responded very well.

"Son-of…" Benny snagged the towel mid-air Sam tossed his way.

"Oh yeah." Sam said nonchalantly. "Forgot, he has a tendency to throw up if he tastes something he doesn't like." went back to the vile potion he'd been forced to drink to not become/remain a vampire but Sam wasn't about to share that with anyone.

"He do it for you?" Benny wiped the milk from his sleeve, Dean's chin and chest and the pillow which he finally just tossed over to Sam's bed.

"No." the reminder wiped any amusement from Dean's antics away. "Here, let me try."

***000***

Dean faded out, came back, and faded out. The pain in his foot every time it was held or moved and unwrapped or ice was applied brought him around if not lucid. He'd grunt in protest, submit to having his eyes 'watered', his foot tended, his mouth invaded and let the praise offered to him for being good soothe him. He cautiously sniffed before drinking, willingly taking the offer of soup from a spoon before accepting his water with a contented smile. He thought after a time, he'd be left alone to sleep without someone watching over him, but…no. Whenever he managed to open his eyes, someone was in the chair next to his bed or at the desk or in the armchair across the room or in the bed beside his.

Once, he opened his eyes to see a trio of men peering down at him from above as if expecting him to perform some amazing accomplishment. What the hell did they expect him to do? Oh, right. Drink that god awful milk. He was going to have a serious talk with Sam with his fist if the kid seriously believed that drink was a milkshake. Hold him down, force him to drink it and see how loud he sang its praises then, the fucking little liar.

The next time Dean woke up, he immediately demanded water. He expected the same service that had been offered to him all the times before but this time, no one spoke, no one held a glass for him with the offer of water and he heard no movement suggesting his demand had been heard. Well, fuck. Ok, fine. He'd get his own damn water. He'd dragged himself across a mud-strewn well to get water; he sure as hell could pick a glass up from the bedside table.

Frowning, eyes still closed, because opening them required more coordination that he currently possessed, he flung his left arm out in a blind search of the glass. His wrist was caught; his arm was held still then firmly pressed down against the mattress. When no one spoke and no offer of water was forthcoming, he screwed up every muscle in his cheeks, clenched his jaw and accomplished a slit in his puffy, dirt-scratched eyes. Least his eyes appeared to be working now.

Castiel stood, head tilted to one side, eyes wide, focused and unblinking and staring at him, hands now shoved into the pockets of his coat. He just stared, offered no aide, no assistance, and no words of greeting.

"Oh for the love of…..Cas give him a drink."

"Sam, I don't believe alcohol at this time would be….."

"Water Cas. He's thirsty." Sam was sprawled on this stomach, head buried under the pillow but he knew what his brother wanted.

"Oh." Cas moved his head to survey the room in search of the water Sam seemed determined his brother wanted. "Should I retrieve it from the bathroom sink or the sink in what you call, but in fact isn't, the kitchen?"

"The fridge Cas. We don't have much, require less but one thing we do splurge on is bottled water." he didn't add it was because over the years they'd both gotten ill from unfiltered water more than once. The last time, some several years ago had been the last time. Now that was a stomach ailment he certainly never cared to experience again.

"I see." Cas stood unmoving for another moment then walked over to the small fridge where he removed a bottle of water and took a seat in the armless chair next to Dean's bed. "Here you are Dean, water." he held the bottle out and waited. "Sam, I don't understand. You said he was thirsty." he said perplexed. "Why will he not take…..?"

Sam threw the pillow in a mini-fit. He'd slept for several hours, content to let Benny hang around and pop up every twenty minutes or so to check on Dean. The sleep and ability to remain in bed had been to his benefit. Gel packs and ice wrapped in a bath towel had also helped reduce both the pain and swelling in his eye and cheek and jaw and his head no longer warred with his face. What he needed now was something to eat. He'd managed half the sandwich Benny had left earlier but now his stomach growled its agitation over being denied breakfast, lunch and dinner.

"You have to pour the water into the glass and help him drink it."

"Why?"

"Because he's not with it enough to accomplish the act on his own." he rolled over and sat up. He'd let others be responsible for his brother the entire day and it was time he took the job on as his own. "I've got him…go….go…I dunno, go do whatever it is you do."

"I am here to help you take care of Dean."

"Awesome." he slid to the edge of the bed and put both feet on the floor. It was time to get out of the clothes he'd slept in, take a hot shower, shave, get something to eat and take some mild pain relief. He was sure he'd heard Benny say he'd bought some Anaprox and he felt confident his stomach would now tolerate it. Asking Cas how Dean was doing would be useless. If Sam wanted to know, he'd have to ask Benny. He snorted, watched Cas awkwardly try to help Dean drink from the glass and smirked. There were some things Cas was just clueless about.

Dean chased the glass that bobbed and butted against his lips but never remained still. "Nuff." he wanted to hold the glass but Cas refused to relinquish it so he settled for holding Cas's wrist still and raised his head to the glass when Cas didn't lower it. He wasn't able to hold his head up for long and grunted his displeasure over his inability to obtain the water.

"Hold his head Cas…..no, not like that." Sam hid a grin but Cas didn't pick up on the teasing lilt of Sam's voice. "Put your hand under his head and hold it up then put the glass to his mouth, you're making him chase it…..don't."

"I don't….feed people Sam."

Sam rose to his feet with an ease that belied how he felt. "Move…..like this." he took the glass from Cas and lifted Dean's head from the pillow with practiced ease. "Hey there…..hi ya." holding the glass steady, he let Dean drink his fill, frowning over the heat coming from the cheek that was closest to his wrist.

"Sam." Dean tried to shift, wanting his weight off his hip that ached from its raised position, but his leg balked and his foot said, NO. "Ow." tears welled and despite rapid, repeated blinking, spilled over. His arm, now holding Sam's wrist began to ache and he shook free, letting it drop heavily to the mattress. He wanted to wipe at his eyes, drag the back of his hand across his cheeks but neither arm wanted to obey his simple command. "Ow."

"Sam, he's bleeding." Cas sounded panicked. Sam rolled his eyes. Good ole Cas; bad-ass warrior angel one minute, nervous clueless newbie the next.

"It's just from where the IV was inserted in the hospital." Sam said calmly. "He's ok."

"You – look – awful." each word was drawn out and spoken slowly with effort. "What happened?" Dean let his eyes close, the effort of keeping them open too great. "Your eye…..eyes….."

"Still got 'em." Sam assured him. "One is swollen closed, the other has a ruptured blood vessel, I'm good."

"I'm not."

"You're ok." he frowned when Dean squirmed. "What's the matter?"

"Gotta get up." he licked his lips. "Just….wanna ….but my foot…."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. "Had enough?"

"Mmm….I…Benny here?"

"Yeah. When you sit up, try not to move your foot, okay? Ready?"

Dean managed to actually pin Sam with an incredulous look. How the hell was he supposed to get up and not move his foot?

"Where's Benny?" Dean asked as he shifted his weight on his right side, Sam helping him by holding his foot so he wouldn't raise his leg. "What'r'ya doing?" he smacked Sam's hand down.

"Do you feel hot? Like, running a fever hot?"

"Huh?" he scowled. "Am'ma sick?" is that why Sam looked so upset? Why he was worried? Scared? That didn't make any sense, Dean'd been sick before. And Cas was there, he could just heal him. Wait, no, there was something…something Cas couldn't do any longer. What was it? If only his head didn't hurt so, and his foot wasn't on fire and he didn't feel like shit, he might be able to think and grasp what was going on. Least his eyes felt better. If he were that ill, wouldn't he be in the hospital?

"You feel hot…..gimme a minute." Sam held the thermometer up but the look on Dean's face told him he wasn't going to get much cooperation. "Okay, so….after the bathroom then." he dragged the blankets back and reached out to take hold of Dean.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean demanded. The look he gave Sam's arm stated if a finger so much as touched him, Sam would draw back a broken wrist.

"Helping you."

"I don't need your help. Get the hell away from me."

"Do you want Cas to take you?"

"NO!" Dean shouted, appalled. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"How are you going to walk Dean?" hands went to his hips. "The crutches are at the cabin."

"I don't need crutches or you or Cas. Good Christ, the bathroom is right there!"

Benny came through the outside door. "Hey, finally awake, huh?" he greeted cheerfully. "About time, you slept all day."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" it was official. Everyone had gone mad. Dean rolled his eyes as the three men began to bicker and neglected to pay him any attention. Christ, all he had to do was pee. Nothing for anyone to get all upset over. Gee-whiz, he could take himself to the bathroom. He didn't need anyone's help. Hadn't needed help since he was what, three?

"NO!" three voices shouted in unison.

Now what the hell were they all pissy about? His feet hit the floor. He hadn't even borne any weight on them and he was a boneless heap on the floor between the beds. He fuzzed out and activity whirled around him in frenzy. He was petted and patted, picked up and hugged and carried. His eyes remained slotted just enough to make out shapes. He was vertical, in the bathroom, standing on one leg in front of the toilet, supported on either side while voices argued whether or not he should remain standing or sit down.

He didn't wait for their decision.

Carried back to bed, he was settled with a pillow under and an ice bag on top of, his foot. More arguing, more petting and patting and a hand - paw - Sam's, on his forehead. The arguing became more intense and voices were raised. The stick was between his teeth, then a beep, some cursing and he was pulled upright in bed. His shirt was pulled off over his head, leaving him shivering in his boxer briefs. He was carried back to the bathroom and deposited in a tub of tepid water and no amount of threats or pleading or begging convinced anyone to remove him from it.

"Cas….if his fever doesn't come down…" Sam's voice shook and he cleared his throat.

"Then administer the medicine in the blue bottle."

Benny came to the doorway of the bathroom. Dean had gone quiet and still in the tub, no longer demanding to be let out.

"Sam, Cas will make sure he doesn't drown. Come sit down."

"No." he turned around to look at Dean, Cas at his back so he didn't see the look exchanged between the two men.

"I can make you sleep Sam." Cas said calmly.

Fury erupted and Sam whirled around to face him. He spun too fast and the world didn't spin with him. He took one step towards Cas and wilted to the floor.

"Which one do you want?" Benny asked Cas with a sigh. Castiel pointed to Sam. "Grab his feet then."


	8. Chapter 8

"Watch his head!" Dean called from the tub. Water sloshed and Cas told him to stay down with just a look. Down, but not silent. "Watch what you're doing…..Benny…hold his head….Cas…don't do that…guys…..watch him, he kicks."

Sam slapped the hands that reached for his arms, pulling his heels close to his ass to avoid the hands grabbing at his ankles. He wanted to stay where he was but was too dizzy to stop the two men from picking him up and carrying him back to his bed if that was their intent and no amount of fighting would prevent them from doing so. Hell, Cas wouldn't even need Benny's help.

"Is he ok? Hey….." Dean struggled to sit up but the tub was slippery, his arms were heavy from the cool water and he was too weak to do more than lay his chin on the tubside. "Sam?"

"Lemme 'lone." he mumbled, now lying flat on his back, heels on the floor. The air around him literally buzzed and though he could hear Benny and Cas talking, he couldn't distinguish a single word either said. The fog surrounding him was too heavy and too thick to penetrate and his body, after nearly a week of malnutrition, a full day without food and two nights of proper rest, succumbed.

"Dean…enough." Cas ordered. "He's fine…you're just too heavy for him to carry."

Dean frowned, wanting to ask what the hell that meant. Sam lying on the bathroom floor did not in any universe translate to, 'he's fine'. But, ooooh, he didn't feel good and concentrating on what was going on around him made his head hurt and Benny was there…..ok, he and Sam didn't get along, but Benny would never do anything to hurt Sam unless threatened and Sam was not threatening anyone. Dean could trust Benny to make sure Sam was ok. Which was good, 'cause he was having a very difficult time holding back the waves that rippled the air around him and he gave in, going limp, unnoticed by everyone around him.

"Come on big guy, sit up." Benny hauled on one arm but when Sam didn't rise with the pull, Cas grabbed his other arm and pulled with Benny. "Just sit…..stay still…."

A cold cloth was laid across the back of his neck and another in his hand and guided to his face. They gave him a couple minutes before they ignored his protest, lifted to him to his feet and took him back to bed where he lay as he was dropped.

"Sit there and watch him." Benny ordered, turning around to return to the bathroom. He didn't put it past Dean to get himself out of the tub to try and get to Sam. Knew for a fact the dumb ass would try if he were left alone longer than a minute. "And you Sam, stay down."

"Alright." Cas agreed, then. "Watch him do what?"

"Just keep him in that bed Cas." Benny huffed in exasperation. "Give him a bit, then do whatever you have to, to get him to eat." Cas nodded, sat and stared, unblinking at Sam. Benny shook his head and entered the bathroom. Dean didn't look up, slumped awkwardly in the tub, chin to shoulder, eyes closed. Huh, Benny hadn't expected that.

"I'm good Cas." Sam said. "But, uh, yeah, I think I'll lay here for a bit."

"Don't make anything easy, do you?" Benny knelt on his knees, scissors in hand and reached over the side of the tub to cut the bandage from Dean's foot. The skin surrounding the stitches were red and puffy, normal for stitches set hours ago. Dean didn't flinch when Benny rubbed a thumb over either wound and his toes responded to the bottom of his foot being tickled. Satisfied Cas had healed the foot, Benny carefully let it rest in the water. He added more cool water then took a seat on the toilet while he waited for Dean to rouse.

Twenty minutes passed. Benny wheedled Dean into holding the thermometer long enough to get a reading; he added cold water. He peeked out into the room; Sam lay on his back in bed and Cas sat, staring, not blinking, watching him. Another twenty minutes, another temperature reading, colder water; another twenty, another reading and Benny went to get Sam. It'd been an hour and Dean's fever held steady at 102.8.

"He hasn't moved." Cas announced. Benny just shook his head. The angel had been with them for hours now, stating he was there to help take care of Dean but really, he was more hindrance then help because he didn't know how to do that.

"Thanks Cas, you did good." Benny's tone was so sarcastic, even Cas picked up on it. An hour, and Cas hadn't even attempted to get Sam to eat anything.

"You are annoyed with me." he stated. "First Sam, now you. What have I done?"

"Why are you here?" Benny countered.

"You told me to be."

"I did what? No I didn't. When?"

"At the hospital, you told me Sam was in no condition to take care of Dean on his own." Cas spread his arms wide. "So, here I am."

"Oh. Ok, yeah, great." he stepped around Cas to shake Sam awake. It was Sam's decision whether to give Dean the medicine from the blue bottle and Benny, a betting man, bet that his fever would soon top 103.

"I'm here to help."

"You sure you don't have somewhere you need to pop off to?"

"What are you doing? You said to leave….." Cas began then puffed up in indignation when he was ignored.

"What?" Sam slurred, slapping irritably at the hand shaking his shoulder. "Stop it."

"Need you to wake up."

"No."

"Sam, Dean's worse."

Magic words. Benny had expected Sam to come around at the mention of Dean's name but by no means did he expect Sam to lunge off the bed and land on his feet in the bathroom next to the tub. Benny hung back in the doorway, Sam on his knees, hanging over the tub as he repeatedly called Dean's name, giving him several gentle shakes that increased to harder, more violent shakes as Sam's desperation and fear grew frantic and Dean remained unresponsive.

"Is his fever over 103?" Sam choked out, t-shirt now soaked as he gathered both his strength and Dean to his chest in preparation to lift him from the tub.

"It's been 102.8 for the last hour, took it three times." Benny replied. "Guessing the water…I mean, I guess it hasn't gone any higher due to the cool water."

"Can't leave him in the tub all night."

"No." Benny agreed. Sam shouldn't be lifting anything of weight let alone the solid-mass-of-muscle that was his brother but he'd wasn't about to voice that concern out loud. Best to help Sam lift Dean and gain his feet before he dove headfirst into the tub. "Let me get his feet….."

"I've got him." Sam bit out tersely, shoulder muscles bunched, biceps straining as he supported Dean's weight.

"Yeah? Who's got you?"

The moment he tried to lift Dean on own, the tiled wall next to his head swirled and dipped and spun out of control. It was either accept Benny's help or pass out – again. Dammit, fucking vampire just had to be right. Sam relented with a nod moving to let Benny next to the tub and together they lifted Dean from the tub, where, dripping wet, they handed him off to Cas, who stood by with a blanket in his hands.

"He needs to be warm and dry." Cas said in response to their identical looks of astonishment.

"How do you know that?" Benny asked, helping Cas keep Dean on his feet while Sam patted and rubbed him dry with the blanket.

"I read a book."

"When?"

"While I watched Sam."

"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, paying half attention to the looks and conversation between the two.

"So I know how to help." Cas easily held Dean when Benny lifted his feet and together they carried him back to bed.

"What?" Sam asked, looking up. He frowned, then shrugged it off, turning his attention back to his brother. Foot re-bandaged, clean t-shirt on, drops administered to his eyes, water offered and rejected, Sam tucked his brother under the blankets. Boxer briefs were made of cotton, they would dry quickly.

"Before you have a fit of vapors…" Benny began, prepared for full-on battle with Sam who had taken a seat in the chair next to Dean's bed. "You need to…."

"Say what?"

"Vapors. Commonly known as female hysteria." Cas supplied helpfully. "Once spelled v-a-p-o-r, it is now more commonly spelled v-a-p-o-u-r….."

"Cas! Enough." Sam lowered his head into his hands. "I'm not prone to hysteria."

"Hissy fits." Cas nodded and Sam glared up at him through his fingers. "Dean said so."

"Okay, fine. Then apoplexy….." Benny began again.

"What century are you from?" Sam looked over when Dean stirred, hands digging free from beneath the blankets. "No, no Dean…..don't. Hey, don't do that." a hand on Dean's shin stopped him from kicking fitfully at the blankets. "You're ok." he nailed Benny with a look. "Not having a stroke either."

"Well, not from any injury to your head." Benny agreed.

"Hot." Dean mumbled, tongue darting out to lick at his lips. "Wet….hot."

"Yeah, get some sleep, okay?" Sam shushed him but Dean twisted his head about in agitation. "Want some water?" he accepted the glass Benny held out. "Dean? Hey…..here, yeah, that good? Enough? Okay?"

"Sam…..I'm only gonna say this once….you need to eat. Not a bite of a sandwich or a package of donuts. You were unconscious for days, woke up, walked out of the hospital and hiked through the woods. You slept on the forest ground, hiked most of the next day, carried him out of a hole in the ground, were up all night at the ER and spent most of today with your face so swollen all you were able to do was sleep."

Sam opened his mouth to argue, to say he was getting up to go eat but Benny raised his hand, palm outward to shut him up before he could utter a word.

"You're human Sam. You had a chance….I'd've left if you'd said get out but not now. Sam, you can't keep this up. The strength and energy needed to pick him up and carry him is killing you….what if you faint and Cas and I aren't here? Your head can't take another blow, not this soon…"

"I don't faint!" Sam protested, feelings hurt. He was tired of being picked on. "Get dizzy."

"Whatever…you're going to hurt yourself one of these times and if that happens, that leaves me and Cas to take care of Dean. Do you want that?"

"Don't even." Sam threatened.

"Yeah, ok great, you slept most of the day and it benefited you, now help yourself some more and eat. Cas will go get you whatever you want….."

"I will go and get you sustenance." with a shift in the air, Cas was gone.

"Sure." Sam pushed up from the chair and took staggering steps towards the kitchenette. "Cause there's no soup here." no way was he going to relinquish total care to Benny. If eating something, anything would shut the vampire up and stop his nattering-on about Sam eating, he'd eat.

Despite the coil of tension in his belly, he was hungry. He was hoping a decent meal and a hot shower would help clear his befuddled brain. There was so much he didn't understand. Like, Cas couldn't respond at will; couldn't come and stay around any other time, but now he wouldn't go away. Why was now different? Why now, since he'd tried to heal Dean and failed, couldn't modern medicine help him? And how the hell did Cas know that?

"When did you last give him the medicine?" he asked, reaching the counter and supporting his weight with both hands against the sink while he caught his breath. Damn, he was weak and light-headed.

"Two, closer to three hours ago." Benny replied. "He doesn't like it."

"We're gonna hafta give him the...other medicine."

"Looks that way, yeah."

"I don't understand." Sam rolled the can of soup in his hands. "I mean…..okay, yeah…Cas healed his foot, but why does that mean Dean won't respond to medical treatment? How did Cas know that? We know Cas can't heal the dead nor can he heal the way he used to, I get that…..but since when does his failure to heal prevent a doctor from doing so?"

"Sometimes, there are no answers Sam."

"Someone somewhere has them."

"Okay, but even Cas doesn't know who he answers to any more. He doesn't know how he knows the things he does…he just pops in and out with little to no memory of where he's been or what he's done. He can't even tell you who gave him the medicine, though he does seem to know what it is."

"He knew where to go and get it." Sam argued.

"Maybe he does know but for whatever reasons, he's not saying."

"He told me to expect side effects but didn't say what they were. He told me if Dean's fever went over 103 to give him the medicine in the blue bottle and if his fever didn't come down with an hour, death was imminent." Sam snorted, scowling at the can when it finally dawned on his energy-fried brain that the pull-tab ring he was searching for would never be found. "Shit."

"He's fighting through this pretty damn good on his own."

"If Cas hadn't come, hadn't tried to heal him, a doctor could have…"

"We don't know that. We don't know how he got hurt, or who, if anyone, hurt him." Benny said carefully as Sam winced. "Cas healed his foot Sam, I know you don't think that means much right now….but we get Dean through the next couple days, he's going to walk outta here, jump in the car and drive away….no therapy, no surgery, no pain, just some stitches."

"So, Cas can heal permanent injury but not related symptoms."

"Appears that way….you'll have to get used to it for it may never change."

Sam tossed the can and dug through a duffel bag. "I can't do this, can't go through this again….I can't."

"Can't do what?"

"This. The waiting. The hospital, the not knowing. Waiting to lose him, waiting to get him back, not knowing if I ever will. It gets harder every time and what makes it worse is I know there's always going to be another time, a next time."

"You think it's any easier for him?"

"I dunno, you tell me." Sam picked up the can of soup. "How long did it take him to find Cas and leave? How long did he leave me up here waiting, thinking he was…not knowing…..guessing….trying to get through losing him again…..while he ran around looking for Cas? How soon could he have left and didn't because…"

"That's not fair."

"How is that not fair?" Sam demanded angrily.

"He thought you…..thought if he wasn't around….he thought you'd be alright Sam."

"Yeah….you seem to think you know Dean oh-so-well." Sam lined the hand-crank can opener he'd retrieved from the duffel bag to the can of soup and began to crank. "Tell me, how the hell he thinks that? How he assumes I'll be ok if he's...not around. How he thinks all-is-right with my world if he's not in it?"

"I don't get your meaning." Benny said carefully.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've lost him?" Sam fumbled with the can opener, fought with the can but was unable to operate it properly. The can slipped from its teeth and hit the floor. Sam cursed, kicking it under the table. "How many times he's been taken away from me? Dad, Bobby, Samuel, Azazel, Meg, Lilith, the Trickster, Alastair, Lisa, Dick, hell even Jake. I turned my back on him and he stabbed me, causing Dean to make the deal which started it all, and yeah, I got him back, but Cas came with him and he was distant and then Ruby and Crowley and he lost Jo and Ellen, then Bobby and Frank and everything snowballed." he threw his arms wide to illustrate the magnitude of his loss and looked around, as if searching for something to do, eyes settling on a shopping bag on the dresser. He picked it up and carried it over to the counter where he unpacked it.

Benny watched him.

"The angels, Zachariah, Anna, and Uriel, even Cas, and …you, me." he unpacked the bag. "In one way or another, they've all…somehow…..come between us or separated us or been the reason we were apart." he gave up trying to open the package of bowls and tried the package of plastic utensils. "These last five years or so….it gets harder to let him go, to let him out of my sight….to have him taken away from me." with a pop, the bag in his hands exploded and plastic spoons and knives and forks flew in all directions. "Fuck."

"Sit." Benny pulled a chair out at the table and gave Sam a shove. He toppled into it, nearly tipping it over backwards and falling but he was able to right himself. Benny retrieved the can of soup, easily opened it, poured half into a bowl, popped it into the microwave and proceeded to collect the scattered plastic ware from the floor. "Any idea what Cas might bring you back to eat?"

"He doesn't understand what makes a meal." Sam's lips twitched. "You do know Styrofoam isn't supposed to go in a microwave, don't you?" he was unable to completely keep a hostile tone from his voice, he lowered his head as the bowl of soup was set in front of him. It wasn't that he was ungrateful…it was just…..dammit, it was Benny.

"I can read." Benny said, sensing Sam could use some time alone to regroup. "There's more soup in the can if you're still hungry…..I'm gonna go catch a nap. If you need me, just yell, I'll hear you."

Sam wasn't alone for long. A knock on the door had him pulling his gun and approaching the door with caution. He peered through the peep-hole then opened the door with an exasperated sigh.

"Really, Cas…..knocking on the door?"

"I had to walk back." he frowned. "Food." he swung the bag onto the counter. "How is Dean?"

"Fever's still 102.8." it sure did smell good, like warm, lemon-garlic chicken. "The, aah, medicine seems to help with the pain but…Cas…..can we talk?"

"Of course. What troubles you Sam?"

"I'm not gonna ask you to explain where you go or who calls you or why you can't always come or why you're able to stay now, none of that matters. I'm not even gonna ask why you can't help him or why healing his foot put him beyond a doctor's help. But Cas, if his friendship means anything to you…please, I'm begging you….this medicine…" he rolled the blue bottle in his fingers. "What's it going to do to him? Do you know? You have to have some answers…..just give me something."

Cas squared his shoulders and hands fisted by his sides, turned to confront Sam who swallowed hard, then gulped. Cas's unwavering blue-eyed gaze made him seek a place to sit his ass and his knees dumped him on the chair next to Dean's bed.

"I mean...his foot...it's the cause of all this...right? The injury you healed but... not the infection, not the symptoms..." he trailed off when Cas shook his head. "So, what the hell Cas? If his problem isn't the hole in his foot, then what is?"

Cas spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "I don't know why my ability to heal has been…altered. There are still angels in heaven I can speak with but they cannot give me all the answers I seek. All they can do is listen to my problem, and if possible, provide a solution."

"So, they gave you this medicine and you trust who gave it to you?" Cas nodded and Sam squeezed his eyes shut. Tears welled and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes in an attempt to stop them from spilling over. "Do have any idea what the side effects might be?"

"It will help him."

"Yeah, well, that's what you said about the other one and it didn't stop his fever from going up." Sam coughed. "Will you just help me, help him? Please? Just go find out from whoever what this medicine will do to him if I give it to him." the stricken look on Sam's face was enough to convince Cas perhaps an attempt to seek more answers was needed. "I need to know."

"Very well."

***000***

"Where's Cas?" Benny was just up from a half hour nap, yawning sleepily as he came through the door.

"He left." Sam sat the table, laptop open, picking on the rotisserie chicken and buttered rolls Cas had returned with. "Again."

"Is he coming back?"

"Yeah….went to see if he could get some answers about the medicine."

"So, you haven't given it to him yet?"

Sam shook his head. "Been looking to see if I can find any….I dunno, lore on heaven or angel medicine, but nothing. Possible side effects scare the shit outta me.

"Cas say what they might be?"

"He didn't know. I mean, how can they be any worse than the ones we were warned about from the medicine we're giving him now?"

"Not to mention the ones we weren't, excessive thirst, extreme dry eyes and I dunno, I gotta say…..he's so quiet, too quiet….you know?"

"Yeah." Sam massaged his eyebrows, swollen eye twitching in displeasure over the gesture. "He's been asleep since we got him outta the tub."

"You….look….a little better."

"Took a shower, changed…..I'm ok."

"His fever still holding at 102.8?"

Sam nodded.

"You think the milk's holding him?"

"Maybe." Sam shrugged. "Bath probably helped, I dunno….."

Dean heard the muted voices but they were distant. He thought perhaps he should care, should find out who the voices belonged to and from where they were coming but….he just didn't care. He was tired, oh-so-tired. Tired of being cold and alone and in the dark. Tired of being wet and thirsty and uncomfortable. Tired of listening to the rats and the sound of water he wanted but couldn't find. Tired of the fire that burned hot but didn't warm him and he couldn't move away from. Tired of the pain. Tired, just tired.

He hurt. He ached. He was sore. He muscles were weak and shaky and despite the fire, trembled from being cold. His head pounded and he was sure it would feel better if the stupid little shit in his skull would finally succeed in kicking its way out. But most of all, despite it all, on top of everything, over everything, was…his foot. Man, who would have thought one small part of one's body could cause so much pain and anguish? He couldn't even begin to categorize how it felt and made him feel and he began a silent chant in his pounding head: Don't wiggle toes. Don't curl toes. Don't flex toes. Don't spread toes. Do wish for no toes. Don't move ankle. Don't lift foot. Don't move foot. Don't touch foot with other foot. Curse the fact he'd been born with two feet.

How much time had passed? Where was he? What had happened? Why was he thirsty? Hadn't he had these thoughts before? Why did he eyes feel like they'd been sunburned? Was that even possible? Wow, he was thirsty. His throat was dry, swollen…parched. Wait! Water, he was in water. He wasn't swimming, he was floating…..the water was cold…..he could drink that…..no….dry now…..the well….it had gone dry. It was cold and damp down here…but dry, like his eyes, like his mouth, like his tongue, his throat…his skin…..He didn't recall moving or making any noise, but his head was lifted and his lips were nudged. Glass collided with his teeth and he tried to push it away with his tongue until his mouth was flooded, then his teeth clamped down to keep the flow of water coming.

"Hey, hey…take it easy, you can have as much as you want…no one's going to take it away from you….easy Dean…..okay…that's it."

"Sam…..he drinks a lot."

"Your point?"

"He's, aah, pissed once."

"Dehydrated." Sam offered without much hope of being believed. He didn't believe it himself.

"Or side effect….."

"He's not bleeding out."

"Do you want him to?"

"What the hell?!"

Benny held the thermometer out. "How's he doing?" with nearly a week's worth of scruff, it was impossible to tell if Dean's face was flushed with fever but his forehead and hands were hot to Sam's touch and his closed eye-lids remained dry and puffy. Sam shrugged, taking the thermometer. Ideally, he should have taken his brothers temperature before giving him water but what the hell….. Sam had little doubt his fever would be under 103, his skin was hot and dry, no chills, no sweating…

"Sam?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, I know." Dean obediently accepted the thermometer, held it under his tongue and when it was removed, fussed until he was given more water. "103.2." he swallowed hard. "Fuck."

No label of instructions appeared when Sam cracked the seal on the blue bottle. The contents were liquid, the top an eye-dropper. Sam pinched the rubber top, filled the slim tube and paused. How was he supposed to administer the medicine? It was a fucking eye-dropper! So where? Mouth? Eyes? Nose? An hour. Cas had said one hour. One hour and his fever had to come down or else. Cas hadn't said what 'or else' meant, but 'in danger of becoming deceased' was self-explanatory. Sam blinked against tears, hands beginning to shake.

"As far back on the tongue as possible." Cas said quietly, having returned. "It should bring his fever down in one hour."

"And if it doesn't?" Benny managed to ask, voice thick with emotion Sam chose to ignore.

"We can help him fight this." Cas said. "His body is fighting an infection whose origin we don't know. The first medicine was to help him with pain and dehydration and malnourishment and attempt to prevent an infection from becoming rampant. It was not meant to fight fever. Alone, neither medicine will save him; it will only give him a chance to be saved."

"A hospital." Sam grasped at the slim possibility there was still hope a doctor could save his brother.

"No Sam. I told you, as did the doctor, he won't respond to medical treatment. I am told we need to keep his fever down. If we can do that, the medicine will enable his body to effectively fight the infection."

"IF. IT. DOESN'T?" Benny grabbed Cas by the lapels of his coat and drew him nose to nose. "Will he be dead in an hour if his fever doesn't come down under 103?"

"We won't let that happen. I told Sam to call for me if he had to give him this medicine and it didn't work within an hour. It is good, there's no sign of bleeding. The blood from his arm is not cause for concern."

Sam gave himself a slap upside the head. Of course Cas had panicked at the sight of Dean bleeding. He knew of the possible side effects but couldn't distinguish between bleeding out and merely bleeding.

"There are no known side effects with this medicine. Either it will work, or it won't."

"No known." Sam repeated.

"It is not often given." Cas explained. "The first is usually all that is needed."

"So what do we do?"

***000***

Sam rotated his neck, straining his muscles until he heard the crack he was seeking. His ass was parked in the chair, eyes on Dean, waiting, watching for each inhale of breath. Breathing out when Dean did, inhaling twice as often, reaching out to adjust the blanket or feel for a pulse or plump the pillow or squeeze his brother's hand just to satisfy his need to know his brother's skin was warm with life.

He knew Benny would have sat vigil with him, would have preferred to, but Sam needed some time alone with his brother. Dean had been cooperative, taking the medicine without complaint, making a face at the taste, but not spitting it out. Wasn't enough to spit really, oh, he probably could have pushed the drool from his mouth with his tongue but he'd swallowed with a grimace and now he lay quiet, his breathing shallow but even. He looked…peaceful, as though he were simply asleep.

If only.

Sam sat back, knee jouncing. Someone needed to remain with Dean until his fever either broke or he….. No, Sam wasn't going to go there, refused to think that option could happen. No, just NO! He could do this, would do this. Dean's life depended on Sam staying awake, remaining by his side and keeping him warm and quiet.

The medicine in the blue bottle would help Dean fight the fever, but after forty-eight hours of sustaining a high fever, the medicine could fry his brain. Not to worry Cas said; all they needed to do was one simple thing:

Regulate Dean's body temperature. His fever couldn't surpass 104 and his body temperature couldn't read the lowest available temperature on the thermometer.

Evening wore on, turned into night, and became dawn. Benny joined Sam at some point and though Sam accepted his presence and his help, he refused to relinquish care of his brother entirely to the vampire or to Cas.

A pattern soon became evident, became routine. Lukewarm baths, towels and wash cloths soaked in cold water, warm, dry shirts and tucked into bed. Countless bottles of water, Gatorade offered and rejected, medicine-tainted milk reluctantly consumed when his refusal was denied. When his fever spiked, he became restless, trying to kick free from the blankets, crying when he jarred his injured foot. It took Sam talking nonsense, palm on his shoulder, fingers massaging along his collar bone to calm him down. His eyes opened when Benny or Cas tried to shush him but that was the only response either got.

At some time, no one knew when, because time had blurred then ceased to exist, the routine pattern shifted. Taken every twenty minutes, his fever bounced around; 103.4, then 102.8, then 96, then 100 and so on…never normal. Baths and towels soaked in cold water were discontinued. If he broke out in sweat, blankets were taken off. If he was hot to touch, bed bath with tepid water. If his lips turned blue, blankets back on, arms and legs rubbed for warmth and circulation. If his body shook with chills, held by Sam for his body heat.

Rinse and repeat. Sam would lie down, Cas would pace, Benny would step out. And Again. Sam would eat, Cas would pace, Benny would step out. One More Time, with feeling.

***000***

"Cause I never say die, never give in…'cause I don't know the meaning of death."

Great, he was singing. Again. Hours - no, days - of nail-biting, sitting on pins and needles, hoping, praying, days and the son-of-a-bitch was singing.

"Dean?" Sam flailed around in the bed, fighting with the mound of bed covers that had grown arms with the ability to box. "Dean?" sure Dean, wake up when I'm asleep, you son-of-a-bitch.

"Never stopped giving it all I got."

"Dean?" Hey, it's me, it's Sam, can you talk to me?" he was finally out of bed and standing over Dean. "Hey, what are you singing?"

"It's cold and dark down here, and I'm all alone, but I got no fear….I'm breaking out…..of here….."

"Dean, hey, come on, tell me what you're singing."

"Back to the light of day...gonna scratch, gonna crawl..."

"Dean?" Benny was at the other side of the bed, Cas at the foot. "Hey."

"Dean, what are you singing?" Sam felt his brother's forehead and lowered his head in silent prayers of thanks and gratitude.

"My song."

"Your song? You wrote a song? Dean, what song?"

"I gotta get out, back to the top, to the light of day 'cause I'm breaking out of hell….It's a looongg waayy dow-owwnnn, to the bottom of the well-eellellll…."

"DEAN!"

Startled into silence, green eyes blinked, finally remained open to squint against the light, dim though it was and eventually made direct contact with the three anxious faces above him, their heads so close together, Sam's hair touched both.

"Hey." Dean croaked, voice husky. "Water?"

"Sure, can't speak a simple word yet can sing just fine." Sam groused, hands holding his hair out of his face trembling with relief as he stared into green eyes, that for the first time in the five days since he'd been found in the well, were clear and bright with awareness and focused and knowing.

"It's good to see you again Dean." Cas announced.

"Welcome back there, buddy." Benny added.

"Water?" Dean licked his lips. The three heads moved away as one and high-fives and congratulatory back-slaps went around. "Guys?"

"Drinks on me." Benny said, reaching for his coat. "Anyone else?"

"I could use a drink." Sam agreed, reaching for his boots. "Hell, a bottle outta do it."

"Uh, guys?" he was speaking out loud, wasn't he?

"Cas, join us." Benny invited, turning the TV off.

"Hey?" man, he was weak.

"There's a bar just down the street, has food." Sam rustled through the mess on the desk for the car keys. "Burgers if nothing else."

"Water?" could no one hear him?

"There is much reason to celebrate." Cas opened the door. "I'd be happy to accompany you."

"Do you eat?" Benny shrugged into his coat and settled his hat on his head.

"I do not require sustenance but may consume it if I wish."

"Hey, uh…Guys?" all he heard was the click of the door as it closed behind the three men. "Sam?"

He raised his head to look around the motel room. It was trashed: clothes, towels, washcloths and blankets were strewn willy-nilly across the beds, furniture and the floor; desk, dresser and table were criss-crossed with newspapers, books, paper, bags and napkins and trash; Styrofoam cups and bowls and empty cans and water bottles too many to count were tossed on the counter, the floor and the sink; chairs were placed haphazardly around the room, one lay on its side; the other bed was bare of a bottom sheet, pillows at the foot, sheets and blanket a piled heap in the center of the mattress.

He smiled, eyes closing. This was no bottom of a well, it was home and he wasn't alone.

***************** End ****************


End file.
